"But you aren't being reasonable!" he exploded. "You act as though it's the end of everything, as if a trip to Mars was something to get excited about--look, Marny. We love each other--you know that, and I know it, too. We could be married--this week, right away--I wouldn't be going for at least six or eight months--why, I might not even make it at all! The tests aren't over, this was just the first screening, and I could flunk in a hundred thousand different ways--" "But you'd pass," she burst out. "You know you would. And then you'd go, and go, and go--what kind of marriage would that be? What about a home, or children? Oh, Bart, you know what happened to the others! You'll die, you'll be killed--think of it! You don't know what you'd find out there, and I couldn't stand it--" She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of tears and bitterness. "It wouldn't be a marriage, Bart. It couldn't be." Bart looked up at me, his eyes pleading. "Tell her, Ben--oh, tell her, somehow--I can't, I don't know how--" He broke off, and walked to the far side of the room, his whole body trembling--"You're not being reasonable," he broke out hotly. "You've got to see--" "Take me home, Bart." The girl stood up trembling. "But Marny--" Something in her eyes cut him off, and he took her coat, helped her into it almost savagely. "It's stupid," he said angrily. "It's stupid and unreasonable--" "Please, Bart--" They left without another word, walking slightly apart, the anger and hurt carving deep lines on Bart's face, Marny's eyes wide, her mouth tight as she wiped her nose, her face white as death. I walked to the window, my mind spinning, and saw them get into Bart's three-wheeler. Then they were gone, down toward the city. For a long time I stood and watched. * * * * * I knew that she'd come, sooner or later. She'd come to me many times before, with big problems and little, and she knew that doctors have a faculty for understanding some of the messes people get into. I wasn't surprised to see her, the next day, coming up the stairs in that blue dress that caught the blackness of her hair and the startling blueness of her eyes. Her face was just as pale as the night before, but her eyes were clear. As she sat down, a trifle uneasily, as though she couldn't quite make up her mind whether she should have come or not, she looked like one of those perfect, exquisite pink-and-white china dolls. I sat down opposite, and offered her a smoke; she accepted, and took a small puff with nervous fingers. "I don't know why I'm here," she said, finally. "Oh, Ben, I just don't know what to do--" "Bart?" She nodded. "I didn't react so well last night, I guess--" "No," I said. "I guess you didn't." "But I didn't know what to say. It wouldn't have been right to have pretended to be happy about it." I sighed. "That's true. There's no good in pretending--not at this point."