But his father, eyes bright and alert, had said, "No, now if George wants to bring one of these, ah, Venusians home with him, that's his privilege. I think it would be very interesting." George knew what his father meant by interesting. Exposing Gistla to his family would result in deliberate sarcasm and eye-squinting and barely hidden smiles. There would be pointed remarks and direct insults. And when it was over, George knew, he would be expected to see the error of his ways. He would then be expected to forget about this odd creature and find himself a nice ignorant little Colony girl, whose father was a member of the Governing circle. "And to hell with that, too," George said. "What?" George heard Gistla say. He turned quickly. She was standing at the edge of the clearing, her round green eyes looking soft and serious. She wore the usual gray cape that reached her ankles. Her voice was a deep round sound, and there was hardly any accent in the words she had learned so quickly since the Colony had begun. "Talking to myself," George grinned. The old excitement was inside of him. There was a kind of exotic quality in meeting Gistla that never disappeared. She crossed the clearing, not too gracefully, and touched her fingers against his hand. This had been the extent of their physical expression of love. "It is nice to see you, George." He noticed his feeling of pleasure when he heard her speak his name. There was something about his own name being spoken by Gistla that had always seemed even more strange than anything else. She sat down beside him, and they looked at each other while the leaves whispered around them and the birds fluttered and chirped. He discovered again the feeling of rightness, sitting beside Gistla. There was a solidity about her, a quiet maturity that he seemed able to feel in himself only when he was with her. And that too was strange, because in American terms of age, she was much younger than he. Sitting, as they were doing, silent, watching each other, had been most of their activity. You did not need to entertain Gistla with foolish small-talk or exaggerated praising. But right now he wanted to tell her quickly, to make sure that she would feel the enthusiasm he had felt. "Listen, Gistla," he said, while she watched him with her soft-looking round eyes. "I want you to come with me today to meet my family." His words seemed to have an odd ring to them, and George waited tensely until he was sure that she was not shocked or angry about what he had just said. She sat silently for a moment and then she said, "Do you think that is right for me to do, George?" "Sure it is! Why not? They know about you and me. They know we're in love." "Love--" She spoke the word as though it were an indefinite, elusive thing that you could not offer as reason for doing anything. Gistla was very wise, George realized, but this was a time for enthusiasm, a time to strengthen their own relationship in this world.