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The boat of a million years by Poul Anderson. Chapter 18-2

“And you won’t tell me why,” Natalia said, flat-voiced.

“I am sorry, but I can’t.” He had long since learned to avoid elaborate fictions.

She looked past him, or through him. “Another woman? Maybe. But more to it than that. Else you’d just cast me off.”

“No, listen— Look Nat, you’re welcome to keep on living here, in fact I hope you do, and—”

She shook her head. “I have my pride.” Her gaze sharpened. “What are you up to? Who are you conspiring with, and why?”

“I say again, this is a personal matter.”

“Maybe it is. Considering the attitudes you’ve expressed, I can’t be sure.” She lifted her hand anew. “Oh, I won’t go bearing tales, especially since you give me nothing to go on. But I’ve got to cover my ass. You understand that, don’t you? If the cops ever question me, Til tell them what little I know. Because I don’t owe you any loyalty any longer.”

“Hey, wait!” He reached to take hold of her. She warded him off. “Let’s sit down and have a drink and talk this out.”

She considered him. “How much more will you actually have to say?”

“I—well, I care about you and—”

“Never mind. You can make up the Hide-a-Bed for yourself. HI pack my things tomorrow.”

She went from him.

I would have had to depart before long in any case, he could not cry after her. It should have been easier than this. At least I’ll occupy no more of the years that are left you.

He wondered tf she, once alone tonight, would weep.

RAIN FELL slowly through windlessness, almost a mist. Its tarnished silver hid the slabs of apartment buildings and muffled every noise. There were only wet grass, dripping leaves, glimmer of marshwater along the walkway. Nobody else was about on such a midweek afternoon in northwest Copenhagen. Having left his place and gone the short distance to Utterslev Mose park, Peter Astrup and Olga Rasmussen had the world to themselves.

Beneath his cap, droplets glinted on the round young face like tears. “But you cannot leave just like this,” he pleaded. .She looked straight ahead. Both her hands, after he let go, she had jammed into the pockets of her coat. “It is sudden,” she admitted.

“Brutally sudden!”

“That’s why I asked you to take the day off so I could meet you. Time is short, and I have much to do first.”

“After I hadn’t seen or beard from you since—“ He seized her arm. “What were you doing? Who have you been with?”

She edged aside. He felt the unspoken command and released her. He was always gentle, she thought, sympathetic, yes, he may be the sweetest lover I have ever had or ever will. “I don’t want to hurt you more than I must, Peter,” she said low. “This way seems best.”

“But what of our holiday in Finland?” He gulped. “Pardon me, that was an idiotic thing to ask … now.”

“Not really.” She made herself regard him again. “I was looking forward the same as you. This opportunity, though, is too great.”

“Is it?” he demanded desperately. “To go haring off to America and—and what? You haven’t made that at all clear.”

“It’s confidential. Scientific research. I promised to say nothing about it. But you know how interested I am.”

“Yes. Your mind, your reach of knowledge, I believe that drew me to you more than your beauty.”

“Oh, come,” she tried to laugh. “I realize I’m rather plain.”

He stopped. Perforce she did likewise. They faced each other in the chilly gray. Because he was still youthful, he blurted, “You are mysterious, you hide something, I know you do, and you are, are incomparable as a woman.”

And Hanno, she thought, has also passed many mortal lifetimes hi learning.

“I, I love you, Olga,” Peter stammered. “I’ve told you before. I do again. Will you marry me? With papers and, and everything.”

“Oh, my dear,” she murmured. “I’m old enough to be—“ Abruptly she could not say, “Your mother.” Instead: “I am too old for you. I may not look it, but I have told you. We’ve enjoyed this past couple of years.”

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Categories: Anderson, Poul
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