" 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'."

"Can you find that place again, now that it's not weak?"

"Maybe," she decided.

"Try to," I suggested. I swung my feet around on the sofa and lay with
my head in her lap. Pheola bent down over me