George Loves Gistla

"But they don't need to be! My family did that on purpose."

"They just don't understand. My race is very different from yours and it seems strange."

"So does mine," George said, standing and beginning to pace back and forth.

It had been what he really had expected. But still he had hoped, somehow, that his family might have understood. He looked at Gistla, sitting quietly, her large eyes watching him. He knew he loved her very much just then, more in fact than he ever had before, because she had been refused by his family.

"Listen, Gistla," he said, kneeling on the grass in front of her. "It won't make any difference what anyone thinks or does or says. I love you, and I'll go on loving you. We'll build our own life the way we want it."

She shook her head slowly. "No, George. It does make a difference. You cannot forget your family or your people. That is important to you. I would only hurt you."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes.