"Um-m-m," I said, as she fooled around getting her hair in some sort of shape with a clip. It was straight hair, and not much could be done with it. "Were you right, though?" "Yes," she said, convinced. "I was very sure. Lefty, I _want_ to do it, for you!" "Sure," I said. "Let's go." The Lodge has good food, but you get tired of hanging around with a bunch of Psi's, so we went on the town and found a good spot for dinner. What with rubber-necking at the big city, it was some after ten o'clock before we got back to the Chapter House and rode up to her apartment. Pheola was bubbling happily about our evening. As she keyed open her door, I pushed her into her place and came in with her. "For a couple who are going to get married," I said, grinning at her, "it's time we made a little love, Pheola." She squinted myopically at me, not sure if I were serious. "I thought you weren't going...." she started. "I'm not," I assured her. "I'm talking about our special kind of love. Know what I mean?" She shook her head doubtfully as I took her wrap and hung it in the closet. "Let's face a couple facts," I said, as I led her to the sofa and we sat down. She squeezed up close to me, so that our knees were touching. "I believe in you. I've told you that I have seen you predict the future. More than that, I have felt you cure me. But precognition is hard to prove, and if we are going to get you into the Lodge, I think we had better stick to Maragon's advice and work on your healing powers. It's Maragon you'll have to convince. He's the last word." "I know," she said, wriggling her skinny knees against me. "And it scares me." * * * * * "Maybe it should," I said, trying to draw away a bit. "Your life won't be your own once your have been admitted to one of the degrees. But life in a Psi society has its compensations. "Now, look at it this way," I went on. "Whether you meant to or not, you have staked your reputation as a PC on a prediction that our Grand Master will suffer a heart attack." "He _will_!" she cut in. "Sure. I even know a PC who agrees with you, in a misty sort of way. Now, think. You're a healer. If you can heal what you predict, it would make a big hit. Can you?" Pheola's pointed features focused in a frown. "I'm sorry, Lefty," she admitted, "I don't even know what a heart attack is." "That's what I thought," I said, getting up to switch on the hi-fi. It gave out soft music--lover's music, I guess it was meant to be. "But I'm a surgeon, you know that, don't you? And I can teach you something about hearts. The question in my mind is whether you can learn to handle what you know." "I don't understand, Lefty," she said, holding out a hand to draw me back to her side on the sofa. I let her have me back. "That's what I meant by our kind of love," I grinned at her. "Remember when you cured my arm the other night? You said you found a weak place in my head." "That's what I did, darlin'."