"Parents, brothers, and sisters, yes; and," she added in a low,
thoughtful tone, "lovers."
"And you, Dejah Thoris, have parents and brothers and sisters?"
"Yes."
"And a--lover?"
She was silent, nor could I venture to repeat the question.
"The man of Barsoom," she finally ventured, "does not ask personal
questions of women, except his mother, and the woman he has fought
for and won."
"But I have fought--" I started, and then I wished my tongue had
been cut from my mouth; for she turned even as I caught myself and
ceased, and drawing my silks from her shoulder she held them out to
me, and without a word, and with head held high, she moved with the
carriage of the queen she was toward the plaza and the doorway of
her quarters.
I did not attempt to follow her, other than to see that she reached
the building in safety, but, directing Woola to accompany her, I
turned disconsolately and entered my own house. I sat for hours
cross-legged, and cross-tempered, upon my silks meditating upon
the queer freaks chance plays upon us poor devils of mortals.
So this was love! I had escaped it for all the years I had roamed
the five continents and their encircling seas; in spite of beautiful
women and urging opportunity; in spite of a half-desire for love and
a constant search for my ideal, it had remained for me to fall
furiously and hopelessly in love with a creature from another world,
of a species similar possibly, yet not identical with mine.
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