She forced herself back from me; did not rise, sat leaning backward, pushing at my knees as though holding us apart against the surge that was drawing us together. "Peter! Peter, don't say that yet!" "Why not? It's true. I love--" "No! You can't be sure. It--will sweep us if you talk like this." Sweep us, indeed! Love! It was that! Love physical, mental and spiritual. The trinity--complete. I knew it! I heard my pleading voice telling her so. "No, Peter! Trus' me--I understan' better than you. Peter--smile at me! Smile! Do not be so serious!" She was so pathetically earnest! I strove for calmness. I smiled. "All right. There you are, Zetta." I could feel her relax. Her hands left my knees; she sat on the roof-floor a few feet away from me. "Thank you, Peter." I laughed. "You're quite welcome." The stress of our emotion was broken. I lighted a cigarette. I felt quite calm, master of myself--and of her. Masterful, because now in my calmness, I knew I was unchanged. It was love, and I knew she loved me. "I'll say it differently, Zetta. Listen: I love you. When we get through all this mess we're in--your world and mine--I'm going to marry you. There--that's calm enough, isn't it? Nothing peculiar about that, is there?" Her surprise made me laugh again. She stammered. "Peter--you--do not ask--if I love you!" "No. Why should I? I know it." "But I am not sure, Peter." "Of course, you are." "I am not. Perhaps on earth your girls are able to judge when they feel a swift heap of emotion--" "Yes," I said blandly. "That's it." But I could not make her smile. She shook her head. "We of Xenephrene are different. The emotion--is not always to be trusted, Peter." "Let's trust it," I said. "No. I cannot--yet." She was on her feet and I stood beside her. "I think--I'm very glad we had these moments together, Peter." She was about to leave me; I could not let her go. "You do love me, don't you? Say it!" "I think--mos' likely--I do!" She gave a little jump; her lips brushed mine. Before I could catch her she was gone, down into the house leaving me alone. CHAPTER XV GRAFF'S TREACHERY "It's time," said Hulda. "Shall we start?" Another hour had passed. Zetta had not mentioned her escapade into the city to meet Graff; nor had I. We were ready now to start for Graff's meeting. It was our first adventure abroad at night on Xenephrene. We had been twice before up this incline into the streets of Garla; but this time it seemed very different.