Hank came to a halt as progress stopped. He wiped his brow with the soggy bandanna and asked, "What is the problem?"
     "Got to sharpen our 'chetes. We make little progress when they are dull. Won't take long. May as well take a load off." responded Willie, his guide. "We should be there tomorrow."
     Hank unshouldered his pack and found a relatively dry log on which to sit. The past days of winding through the jungle all seemed a blur in his weariness. He shut his eyes and listened to the ever-present drone of the flies. He was beginning to deeply detest the sound. His mind drifted to fantasies of massive spraying operations, killing bugs by the trillions. He wiped his brow again and felt a stinging sensation. He yelled and checked the bandanna to find the squashed remains of some bug.
     Willie came over to him. "Just a freeler, Mr. Hank. A little swelling, but no harm. I will get the baking soda."
     The stinging increased until Willie mixed and applied a paste to the bite. There was a shout to the left of the trail as Hank felt the pain begin to vanish. Then there was much shouting.
     "What is going on?"
     "Tupro found a rotten log filled with giant grubs. We will have a small feast. I take it that you do not wish to participate."
     "No, Willie."
     "Your choice. They are the most nutritious food on Earth, you know."
     "No, thank you. Go on. I'll be fine. It quit hurting."
     Willie turned and ran into the foliage. Hank sat there with a feeling of disgust. He wished that he had not chosen to go on alone when Mark canceled his place on the expedition. Hank now felt that the grant that had looked so handsome was not worth the effort and drudgery and vile conditions that he had endured, and he wasn't even there yet. He dreaded the return trip, should the rumors prove to be other than what he hoped.
     At first, Hank was very enthusiastic about a trip to Africa. With the tales he had heard from his colleagues and the discovered maps from three different sources, it was inevitable that he would wind up here. He was expecting the company of a number of his associates, but that dwindled to himself and a colleague in the budget crunch. And when Mark canceled because of a family tragedy, everyone else who was qualified was already funded. Thus he made trip alone with a single grad student that was now in hospital five hundred miles behind him with a severe stomach virus. Hank didn't like jungle, especially alone. He felt far too vulnerable, anything but in command. He had not envisioned the stench, heat, rot, humidity, closed tightness, and danger when he viewed the solid green of the map from his office.
     The green splotch had looked so small on his map then. It looked monstrous to him now. He now hated that shade of green on the map. It was the same color of the foliage that enclosed him womb-like, away from the sky and horizon. He spat in disgust, and then cursed when this action sprinkled flakes of baking soda peeling from his forehead into his eyes. He teared heavily and wiped the remainder from his soggy brow with a new bandanna. He cursed to himself and was answered with a low growl.
     Through tear streaked vision he made out a leopard that had quietly followed them unnoticed up the trail, a heavier and swaying black in the shadows of the trail. He tried to clear his eyes with the bandanna, but it did little good. Adrenaline made his hand tremble too much to do an adequate job. He dropped the cloth and opened his holster snap. The big cat growled, and he slowed his actions. He pulled out the pistol slowly, his eyes stinging, unfocused on the leopard. As his hand came forward, the cat charged. It hit Hank squarely with a snarling roar, and he felt searing pain at his shoulder. The impact jerked his grip, and the pistol discharged at the cat's ear. It pushed off of him, knocking the breath out of him, folding him over from the previously unimagined strength in the cat's hind legs. He managed to hold the pistol and got off two more wild rounds in breathless terror of the big cat, which might not still be fleeing. It jammed in the dirt on the third pull of the trigger.
     He saw bright red, and he began to feel nauseous and light-headed. He knew that to regain one's breath, one's arms need merely be lifted over one's head. He tried, but the pain in his chest made it a start and stop installment effort. But he finally got his breath, and then folded himself back into a fetal position. The guide and bearers arrived a few moments later and saw the aftermath of what had happened.
     They quickly made a cot from cane with a tarp and had Hank placed on it. The guide opened his shirt and surveyed the injuries. Foremost were the long gashes, prime for infection from the jungle filth on the cat's claws and from the jungle air. Plants were gathered and a poultice was made to disinfect the wounds. They did not even open the first aid kit that Hank had dragged along all the way from the states. They moved down the path after a salve was applied to his wounds. They cut at a quicker pace and took fewer breaks. Hank was barely aware of the swaying as he went in and out of consciousness, his fever continually inching upward. He wasn't aware that they moved well into the night. The elixir that he had been given took away the pain at the cost of his awareness.

     Pushing on the next day very early, they reached the destination before noon. Hank was fevered and drugged and too incoherent to take in the marvel of the lost city. Little could be seen except at close range. Only where the stone lay did there exist free space, and only on a small percentage of that. But what was in the clear spaces would have set Hank to trembling with zeal, had he been in condition to notice. He was set in a clearing amidst four runed and figured pillars. The bearers knelt and said prayers, then set about nervously to searching the grounds for certain berries.
     Hank started becoming more aware as the elixer began to fade in its effects. He looked about and finally became aware he had reached his destination, that he had actually arrived. For the first time since the attack, he smiled. His success was cut short by a pain in his chest.
     Willie came up to him. "You do not fare well. There is one cure that we know that will see you safely through the healing of your wounds. Do you understand?"
     Hank nodded.
     "I am going to feed you the patrappa berry, the forbidden fruit of the Priestess Chalda. When you meet her, you must tell her no. Remember that you must tell her no."
     "Tell her no." Hank repeated in a mumble.
     Willie began to feed Hank the berries one by one. At first, the taste meant little to Hank. But as his discomfort started to fade and the incessant burning itch began to abate, the taste became the focus of his attention, and after the fifth berry, he ate them eagerly, forcing Willie to watch his fingers. Willie was careful and not bitten, knowing that it would happen.
     When Willie gave him the last berry, he signaled the bearers to come and hold him down. Hank asked for more in a manner that suggested the feeding frenzy of some fish. He began to struggle when he realized that there were no more berries coming. He was obsessed to violence with the taste and had to have more. There was simply no room in his mind for other thought until the haze took his mind and the bearers began to ease their hold, though they did not release it. Hank was unaware of the bearers.
     He was drifting through the veils of the inner mind flung away from the senses. He drifted without panic reactions, though a part of him was extremely frightened. But it had little say and followed just to keep from be left behind the rest of his mind. He felt a shift in the veils, as if they were parting. His mind gave himself form, and he opened his eyes.
     He was still in the city, but it was not as he had remembered it from the cot. It was well kept, the gardens orderly, the stone clean of weather and mold. Water flowed from the fountains along channels. Yet, it was empty of people. There were signs of people. Woven baskets, canopies of sturdy cloth, food in a market, many artifacts were all to be seen as he moved inward toward the center of the city.
     It felt the quality of a dream, but he could feel his own pinch. He felt strong and exuberant, with no pains or qualms. He felt very much in control of himself, even in the face of the inexplicable. He walked on, feeling his steps guided by a will that blended with his own. He knew he was doing the right thing.
     Upward he went, through stairways and thoroughfares, noting in his mental notebook every detail of the city as he proceeded. His walk came to an end when he reached a square with four pillars. In the center of those four pillars was a body of an ill man on a cot. At the center of the far side of the square was a dais that held a radiant woman.
     Though she was some yards from him, he could see her plainly. As he entered the square, she made her way down the steps, the gauzy robes swaying and dancing about her form. He made for the center, and she matched his progress. They met over his body, himself standing at his feet and her at his head.
     She was classically beautiful. An ivory bronze complexion with scintillating prismatic sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, high cheek bones, luscious lips, atop a partially veiled body of sensuously sculpture curves that tugged relentlessly at his groin when he looked anywhere upon it.
     "You have come here to partake in the renewal of life. This is your wish to do so?"
     "I. . . . I was injured. My guide treated me." He looked down upon his own body before him and noticed in what poor shape he rested.
     "Come with me. Your reserves shall be restored."
     She turned about, her visage causing Hank to bite his lip. He took a deep breath and followed, as he knew intrinsically he must. He followed further uphill for several minutes at a pace below his normal gate. He looked at the city to avoid looking at her backside and the feelings it gave him. Her long, well toned legs made him hurt in his lower abdomen.
     She led him into a temple. As he stepped into the hall, the sounds of life began to fill his ears, and half a dozen more steps revealed it to his eyes. She led him down steps in a chathredrally spacious room with vaulted stone ceiling. Lighting was through large sky portals over delicate and lush gardens. He counted one hundred seven steps to the floor below.
     The people filling the temple were in repose, Hank decided. There was movement, but it was only for short distances, and generally for food or drink. Water ran throughout the area, and he could see both sexes swimming and bathing leisurely. Many were too preoccupied with others to notice their passing. Those that did smiled warmly. Hank could only smile back, though he was too uncertain for his heart to be in the smile. Too much was new for him to let his feelings flow as they so desired to do.
     The priestess led him to the center of the temple floor where two massive stone chairs faced each other, almost touching. They were very odd looking to Hank, having padded contours that he had never seen in furniture, cut in a cavity from two massive blocks. They matched to mirror image the chair opposite. The priestess sat and lean into the chair. Hank sat in the corresponding spot and also leaned back. He shifted his feet and was immediately very comfortable. He shifted and found a variety of comfortable positions, simply to the way he leaned. It was perfect for sitting in the same spot for extended periods of time.
     Food was brought before them and was placed on the small table that separated the chairs. At the far edge of the platter, he saw her knee and knew that he could easily touch it. These chairs were made lovers, he realized, and he became aware that she was aware that he was avoiding looking at her.
     "Do I make you feel uncomfortable?"
     "There is much in my ignorance. I know so little of this here. I do not know what to expect or what is expected of me."
     "Only one thing is expected of you. A simple answer. But you do not yet know the question. Until then, we concentrated on restoring you. If you have questions, you need but ask. Why do you not look at me? Do I offend you?"
     "No. You create conflict."
     "You deny the sides of being?"
     "Sides of being?"
     "The faces of the soul."
     "The conglomeration of drives?"
     "Yes, though that name takes respect from the spirit. Are you afraid to face the life forces that reside within you?"
     "No, but I am reluctant to act without knowledge of the prevailing social graces."
     The priestess laughed a light lifting trill. "Look at me and tell me what you see."
     Hank looked square upon her after a few moments.
     "What do you see?"
     "Someone of power."
     "That is who you see. I asked of what you see."
     "A woman in a robe."
     "More precise and descriptive."
     "You wish praise?" he asked, uncertain of where she was leading him.
     "I wish an honest answer."
     "I see a vision that is the essence of invitation in an uncertain experience that my mind tells me is not of my natural frame of existence."
     "Do you doubt this existence?"
     "At certain levels of belief,yes, though it remains immediate."
     She reached down for a handful of grapes. "Eat, taste the fruit." She ate to show him that it was there for consumption, not decoration.
     Hank reached down and took grapes and tasted. They held the same taste as the berries that had brought him to her.
     "Do not fear to indulge. You were brought her to be restored. Will you deny your purpose in being here? Take what you will from the temple. Take what you need to restore your body in the square. The more you take, the quicker you heal. The more the joy flows through you, the stronger you grow. Feel not constrained to the barriers of thought that block your way. Eat and fill your vessel that you may reach your full bounds. Feel the joy of the temple. Feel the flow of nourishment. Take what flows to you and return the flow to its own."
     Her words were narcotic, and Hank ate of the grapes and then more of the food. All held the taste of the berries to some degree, and mixed in other sublime flavors as well. His resolve melted further with each bite.
     She wiped his cheek with her finger and licked it. Hank's resolve sprang back up, but faltered as the flow within him had already commenced and washed away any foundation trying to take root. His hand started forward and was captured by hers. She rubbed his forefinger across her lips, and a rage washed through him, all restraint torn asunder from his being. Freed of the burden, there was no doubt to Hank. His restoration began.

     Hank became one with the temple, flowing with tide of energy and emotion. He took, and he gave, and he grew with every transfer. Once a day, the priestess would take him to the square and show him the progress that his body was making. As he engaged in the pleasures of the temples, his body regained color, the wounds lost their redness and swelling, the fever dropped.
     Each day, his body in the square gained health with the power he let flow through him. He ate, swam, loved, talked, and played without reticence. The taste of the fruit was in everything, and he could not get too much. He laughed truly to the attention of all the others, feeling the full measure of love in the encounters, be they simple or in depth. Nothing within him separated him from the flow of the healing powers. He forgot the meaning of regret and indecision.
     The days passed, and Hank was relaxed as he had never been. He never worried that he was not adequate to living, that he lacked anything in his total being. He knew no shame or timidness. It was a flow of life that filled him and passed through him. The priestess was never far from him and ready to accept his attention at any time, be it a word or hours of intimacy. He never felt that he was imposing because the flow never stopped, except for the visits to the square, which were done nobly and with grace. He knew no anger or loneliness. His being was whole in the taste of the berries.
     His body lost all signs of the attack in time. There were no scars anywhere to be seen, and his skin glowed with a radiance of supreme health. Yet it had never moved once from its position on the cot. His visits to see his condition brought to him an awareness, dim and incomplete, until one day his body looked ready to come to life. He felt on that trip that the question was upon him. Willie's words came back to him.
     "You have the need for a decision." she said quietly and certainly.
     "Yes. I see it."
     "Then I shall ask. Hank, do wish to remain here with the flow eternal? Once you leave, there is no returning. To eat the berries again would surely kill you like deadly poison. Will you stay?"
     "Those that live here are those who have remained?"
     "Yes. Will you choose their life, or will you deny the flow in order to return to your body?"
     "If I do not return, my body dies."
     "You have but a few hours to choose. Time is upon you."
     "May I ask a question?"
     "Yes. Anything you like."
     "Do you love me? Do you wish me to stay?"
     "I am the flow, Hank. I am love. I exist because the love exists. I can do nothing else but love you. As to your staying, I want you to have the life you desire, be it this one or the original one. I want that which gives you the most fulfillment."
     "You are asking me to choose between the natures of the mind. Much as Adam, except that I already have the knowledge, and have to decide whether to use it or reject it. Do I wish to return to the world of sin?"
     "Come. Return to the temple one last time. Drink of the flow that is me, love me again, and decide."
Hank followed her back, and they ate and swam and loved at all levels. He lay in her arms, exhausted, and he asked, "Am I right in thinking that I may leave the temple only once more?"
     "Yes. If you do it within the next hour, you will have a body to which you may return. After that, your leaving would make you a roving spirit, unable to find your way back here."
     Hank returned to silence. He wagered a life of freedom amongst sin against being a prisoner of love. The priestess enfolded him in her flow and he drank of her one last time as a free spirit. Then he kissed her again, no longer free, and pulled himself from her embrace and walked out of the temple.

     He opened his eyes, and there was Willie sitting next to him, dozing as he waited in the heat.
     "Willie, will those berries work elsewhere?"
     "Master Hank, you've returned."
     "Willie, the berries?"
     "You can not eat them again. You would die."
     "I am aware of that. I shall never again taste them. I was asking if they work elsewhere, away from the temple, for others. Has it been done sucessfully?"
     "I do not know of it having been tried."
     "How about the bearers? Would any of them know?"
     "I shall ask."
     Willie rose to his feet. Hank got off the cot and dug into his pack for clean clothes. Willie returned with one of the bearers. Willie translated the bearer's story that he had seen a past chief of his tribe cured in his village with the berries. When questioned, the man said that the chief had told the village that he had been to see the priestess and had returned to his people. Hank asked and found out that his village was over two hundred miles away. Hank set everybody to gathering berries, after he spent time assuring Willie repeatedly that he wasn't going to eat more.
     Hank got busy setting up the desiccators. The berries went into wire baskets after being washed in a mild agent. Hank baked the moisture out of the desiccant with a stove run on LP and oxygen cylinders and changed it often. Mildly heated air was blown across the baskets and filtered through the rock. Done in the sun, Hank was able to seal pack ten quarts of dried berries in three days.
     He had trouble looking at the berries. He wore protective clothing to protect himself from the juice. He wasn't going to take a chance, even though he was told that the berries had to eaten the second time to prove poisonous. He suffered the tropical heat rather than take the chance. He worked without stop on the drying and on his notes, working on an energy he'd never before known.
     After he had the berries packed and his notes finished, he pulled out his camera and photodocumented the lost city, paying particular attention to the temple. In all, he stayed three weeks after his recovery. If he were going to live in this world, he was going to do it right.
     It took eleven days after breaking camp before Hank was on the plane home. The jungle managed to get the last word, a wicked thorn lancing his ankle. Antibiotics were but ten hours and their transportation an hour away when it happened. He returned to the states with a slight limp.
     His packages of dried berries slowed his passage through customs, but he had everything documented in proper form. The first thing he did at the airport was to phone a biochemist that he knew.

     Two years later, Hank sat on the balcony of the Fairlane Hotel overlooking the blue surf and tropical sands. Theresa Jamond sat across the table in the evening sun light.
     "Hank. Can I ask you a question?"
     "Sure."
     "Did you know that you could have taken me to bed last night?"
     "I thought it possible."
     "Have I done something to turn you off?"
     "No. I've enjoyed the trip with you. It's been fun."
     "It has. But it's hardly been romantic. I just assumed that when you asked me along, you'd want to get me in bed."
     "Well, I hadn't given it much thought. Not to insult you, Theresa. I like you very much."
     "Is there a problem?"
     "Oh, I just guess that we haven't really gotten a flow going. We haven't loosened up enough."
     "I thought we were doing pretty well."
     "So far. I just think that we could better."
     "You sound like my brother."
     "Why is that?"
     "Ever since the doctors cured him from injuries in an auto accident three months ago, he's been sounding like you. In the flow. Loosen up. Feel the energies. I heard that everybody the goes through Peff treatment comes out like that."
     "Most do."
     "You had Peff treatment?"
     "Sort of. I'm the one that brought the discovery out of the jungle."
     "You? Oh, my gosh. I never snapped to the fact. I'll be whipped. No wonder. What is it with the stuff? I hear that people are killing to get their hands on it."
     "Stupid. All they have to do is get themselves wounded badly enough without dying. They don't have to hurt others. It's standard trauma procedure now. Last hope drug. If the patient wants to live, he or she returns. If they have no desire for this world, they remain."
     "Remain where?"
     "In the temple with the priestess."
     "What is it like?"
     "Love. Pure love. No taints, no doubts, no hesitation, no regrets, no anger, no cares, only love, pure love."
     "What is there?"
     "The Lost City of Fenusa Peg Bapar. Priestess of Love, translated."
     "You've seen the priestess?"
     "For several weeks, in subjective time. The city is clean, the temple is the focus. In the temple is an orgy, not of lust, but of love, that lasts forever."
     "Forever?"
     "It's a gentle thing. It's eating and talking and swimming and touching and always loving. Everything there flows to the love. You feel it. You bathe in it. Nothing I've found has been the same since. There's always a hesitation or a doubt or lack of sharing or uncertainty. People who have not met the priestess know only a partial love."
     "So why bring me along? Why not get someone that has been there?"
     "The Priestess' ranks grow. Most choose to stay. More men than women return percentage-wise, and more men than women come in as trauma patients. Most of the women are old and sick, not young and injured, or they're married. They are in short supply, and most free women marry when they find a man who has also returned. I did not return to marry. Had I that in mind, I would have stayed."
     "Why did you return?"
     "To return my love to the priestess by bringing her new lovers, so that she may grow ever more powerful, and to return to this world a sense of love that man lost when he was banished from the garden. To provide the way, in love, for man to return to love, is why I came back."
     "You came back, rather than stayed as a sacrifice?"
     "It is no sacrifice. The sacrifice was in leaving. I wanted to stay, but I know myself too well. I would have walked out of the temple one day. I figured it was best to do so while I still had a body in which I might return the love to the priestess in the way I saw best. Each person that arrives at the temple and is met by the priestess, or the priest, as she is perceived by women, when taking Peff is there because of my recommendation."
     "Wait. Either or?"
     "The priestess is the flow of love incarnate. If you do not give her or him your full love, in the personal form in which she greets you, then she is quite painful to look upon. The pain comes from that which fights to hold you back from love. It is the same pain that comes with strained relations in this more physical form. Once the flow starts moving through you, the barriers can not stand. After that, it is not lust. It is the flow. You make love to feel the flow more directly, not to satisfy physical needs. It can be achieved here, if it is done correctly. Would you like to learn how?"
     "What does it entail?"
     "A willingness to see beauty in the purest form possible. A willingness to abandon the pains of barriers that protect you and restraint you from loving. It can not be sustained in this world of sin and corruption, but it can be experienced. Are you free enough to lay aside the hesitation, doubt, anger, pain, bad memories. You must wish to be healed inside. Are you willing to totally surrender your defenses? It isn't easy to do. Not without the taste of the fruit. But it can be done if there is love in your heart."
     "Will I be taking Peff?"
     "No. You may need it someday."
     "Where did Peff get it's name? Doesn't sound like a medicine."
     "Abbreviation for Priestess of Eden's Forbidden Fruit."
     "Your idea?"
     "No. A joke, later taken seriously."
     "Oh. So, how long will this take?"
     "How long before you reach it, or how long does it last?"
     "Both."
     "Depends on the individual. If he or she is receptive and feels love easily, not long, and they can usually return to the state of mind easily. For those less trusting, it may prove impossible. In this world, as always, trust is the deciding factor. Do you trust fully in love?"
     "I don't know."
     "That is why I did not show in your bedroom last night."
     "So if I want to make time with you, then I must release my doubts and trust you."
     "Not so much trust me, but rather trust in love."
     "I've got to get to the point where it doesn't matter that you are handsome or rich? Is that it?"
     "Or intelligent or witty or fun. You must see me as a vessel through which love flows, and see yourself as the same. You must surrender totally to love, allowing nothing to hold it back."
     "But what about after you stop?"
     "That you do as I did when I walked out of the temple, and take love in your heart. At least here, you may return to find it again, be it with the same vessel or another. It is the flow that all people seek. Many have gotten lost outside the garden. Here, it must be cultivated carefully, where its growth faces competition. The love must be taught and spread."
     "How do you face the world afterward?"
     "Stronger, more positive."
     "Okay, Hank, teach me to feel the flow."
     "We shall start with the sunset. Let me move this ottoman in closer. Now come sit here and rest against me. Look into the sun. See the caldron growing less powerful as it drops. Now open your mouth, keep looking at the sun, and take this in your mouth and chew. Place your trust in love. Don't hesitate, accept. Do not let doubt have you. Throw that into the setting sun. Let the energy fading from the sun be your barriers. Feel them fade. Open and bite."
     "Apple."
     "Yes, and quite delicious. Taste the apple, the original forbidden fruit. Take the knowledge and throw it into the sun. Forget it is an apple. It is only a flavor of love. Now this."
     "Grape."
     "Escape by intoxication. You have no need for escape. So give it no name but the name that your brain has for the taste of it. Throw the rest into the fading sun. Now this."
     "Peach."
     "The fruit beneath the skin. Shed the layers holding back the love and get to the meat. Throw the excess into the sun."
     "Watermelon."
     "The burden fruit. Forget the burdens of the world. They will only prevent you from finding love."
     "I don't know."
     'The taste of love."
     "The taste of love."
     Hank fed her a strawberry after the plum, and she couldn't identify it either. He bent forward and kissed her cheek softly, that the nerves in her skin would attenuate toward more sensitive. She began to lose her ability to distinguish among any of the fruit as the sun reached the water. By the time the sun was below the horizon, they were no longer in the chair.

     A week later, Hank returned to the hotel from the airport. He had seen Theresa off on her flight home. He went out onto the balcony with his binoculars. He started scanning the beach.
     "Be with me, my priestess. Show me the next recruit, as you have so many times now. Show me the woman ready to learn the flow of love that this world will not let her feel. Show me the one that needs your touch more than any other. Show me one that I can attract with my riches from the synthetic extract of your forbidden fruit, yet who needs only to feel your flow to believe. How I miss you."
     His binoculars ceased their tiny movements, zeroing on a girl on a beach towel. "Yes, I think so, too." The lenses came away from his eye, and the tears trapped by the eyecups rolled down his cheeks. "I will do my best for her, my love."
     Hank went down to the beach after changing. He walked in front of her and stopped, looking out over the water away from her. He turned around to face her and looked at her with a puzzled look. "We're you just thinking about lobster?"
     "Lobster?"
     "Yes, lobster. The thought of a lobster dinner just popped into my head from out of the blue, making me quite hungry for one of the little and delicious rascals. Did I get that from you?"
     "I don't think so." she replied. "But it does sound appetizing. Sounds expensive, too."
     "No worry of mine. My wallet wouldn't protest lobster for every meal, though I doubt my digestive track would be pleased. But at the moment, it's been awhile since I had any. Would care to join me?"
     "Just like that?"
     "Well, I got you thinking about it. The least I can is repair the damage to your appetite. I'd hate to think I made someone hungry for something, then left them to suffer without."
     "In that case, I'd be honored."
     "Shall I meet you at the dining room after we have both had a chance to change? You needn't be formal, lest you like. Just warn me lest I look a fool showing up casual when you show up the lady."
     "Casual will do fine. . . .
     "Just call me Hank."
     "Beverly."
     "Very well, casual. Twenty minutes be sufficient?"
     "Make it fifteen. I am hungry."
     Hank offered her his hand for her to stand. He used just enough grip that her hand didn't slip as she rose. He withdrew it when she was standing, his fingers lingering a bare moment and a smile on his face. "See you at the lobby."
     "I'll walk you to the elevator."
     "A splendid idea. How long have you been here?"
     "Arrived last night. You?"
     "Several months, off and on, a little travel mixed in."
     "At these rates?" she asked, a bit incredulous.
     "You make me feel guilty."
     "Oh, no. I didn't mean that."
     "It isn't always easy living off of patent royalties among the working class. Makes me feel something of a swindler."
     "I wouldn't mind."
     "It does have advantages, I admit. But it creates a barrier in image. Those kinds of barriers bother me. Most barriers bother me when they separate people from the joys of sharing."
     "Are you married?"
     "No. Had my heart broken once."
     "Some woman walk out on you?"
     "No. I did the walking, but it was because I loved her, and I felt that I could better serve her elsewhere."
     They stepped into the elevator.
     "That's sad."
     "When you truly love someone, it seems easy." Hank said as the doors shut. "So few people feel love these days. Too afraid to trust in love."