After we had eaten I built a rude platform among the branches of a large tree and gathered a number of huge leaves to serve as mattress and covering, and as darkness fell Nalte and I settled ourselves, not uncomfortably, in our lofty sanctuary. * * * * * For a while we were silent, wrapped in our own thoughts. I do not know about Nalte's, but mine were gloomy enough. I cursed the day that I had conceived the idea to build the huge torpedo that had carried me from Earth to Venus, and in the next thought I blessed it because it had made it possible for me to know and to love Duare. It was Nalte who broke the silence. As though she had read my thoughts, she said, "You loved Duare very much?" "Yes," I replied. Nalte sighed. "It must be sad to lose one's mate." "She was not my mate." "Not your mate!" Nalte's tone expressed her surprise. "But you loved one another?" "Duare did not love me," I replied. "At least she said she didn't. You see, she was the daughter of a jong and she couldn't love any one until after she was twenty." Nalte laughed. "Love does not come or go in accordance with any laws or customs," she said. "But even if Duare had loved me, which she didn't, she couldn't have said so; she couldn't even talk of love because she was the daughter of a jong and too young. I don't understand it, of course, but that is because I am from another world and know nothing of your customs." "I am nineteen," said Nalte, "and the daughter of a jong, but if I loved a man I should say so." "Perhaps the customs of your country and those of Duare's are not the same," I suggested. "They must be very different," agreed Nalte, "for in my country a man does not speak to a girl of love until she has told him that she loves him; and the daughter of the jong chooses her own mate whenever she pleases." "That custom may have its advantages," I admitted, "but if I loved a girl I should want the right to tell her so." "Oh, the men find ways of letting a girl know without putting it into words. I could tell if a man loved me, but if I loved him very much I wouldn't wait for that." "And what if he didn't love you?" I asked. Nalte tossed her head. "I'd make him." I could readily understand that Nalte might be a very difficult young person not to love. She was slender and dark, with an olive skin and a mass of black hair in lovely disorder. Her eyes sparkled with health and intelligence. Her features were regular and almost boyish, and over all was the suggestion of a veil of dignity that bespoke her blood. I could not doubt but that she was the daughter of a jong. It seemed to be my fate to encounter daughters of jongs. I said as much to Nalte. "How many have you met?" she asked. "Two," I replied, "you and Duare." "That is not very many when you consider how many jongs there must be in Amtor and how many daughters they must have. My father has seven." "Are they all as lovely as you?" I asked.