"It wasn't fair," George repeated. "And it didn't prove anything." "I think it did," she said, moving away. "No, listen, Gistla," he said. "You can't judge anything by what I did or said. We are different, in a physical sense, but that doesn't really matter. If a golden-haired girl materializes in front of my eyes, you can't blame me for what my emotions did. It's still you I love. Not the color of your skin or the shape of your mouth. But you and what you or I or anybody else looks like isn't important!" He followed her and caught her arm. She turned to face him. "You can say that," she said. "Your words tell me that and your eyes, but I know it isn't true." The embarrassment was still inside him, but the way she denied him made him want her more than ever. He held to her arm and then he said, "Gistla, could you change me? I mean, so that other people, even I, would see me as they see you--as a Venusian?" She stood very still, staring at him. "Could you?" he asked. "Yes." "Then do it, Gistla. I'll prove to you that nothing is important but you and me. I'll be a Venusian, like you are. I'll go back to my family as a Venusian and I'll take you with me. I'll prove that neither they nor anybody else makes any difference in how I love you!" Gistla watched him solemnly. Finally she said, "Would you really do that?" "Yes," he said quickly, "Yes." "I love you, George," she said in her deep round voice. He lifted his hands to touch her face and he found that his skin had turned to pale green. He touched his own face, and he knew that if he looked into a mirror he would see a round smooth head with large lidless eyes. "Is that what you wanted?" she asked. "Yes," he said stubbornly. "That's what I wanted." He stood there for a long time, trying to become used to it, fighting the fear that ran through him every time he looked at his hands or touched his head. Finally he said, quietly, "Let's go meet my family." * * * * * As they drew near the house, he knew his family was still in the patio. He could hear the voices of his mother and father and the high, piercing laughter of his sister. "And, my God," he heard his sister say, "did you see the way those horrible eyes looked at you? What ever gets into George?" "Dear, dear, dear," he heard his mother say. Gistla was looking at him. "You do not have to do this." "Yes," he said, feeling his heart jump. "I do." He took her hand and they walked to the gate of the patio. He stood there, feeling Gistla's hand tighten about his own. And as he said, "Hello, everybody," he felt his breath shorten as though he had suddenly gotten stage fright. He saw his father turn around. "What's this?" Mr. Kenington said, frowning. "Hello, Father," George said. "_Father_," Mr. Kenington repeated. "What are you doing in this patio?" "I brought Gistla back." "So I see," said Mr. Kenington, his eyes narrow as he looked at Gistla. "Where's George?" "I'm George."