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."
"But . . . well, I'm not actually any relation to her. Not that I had any idea of marrying her."
"Oh, beat it! You make me tired."
Thorby moped around, unwilling to go back and face Jeri. He felt lost and alone and confused; the Family seemed as strange, their ways as difficult to understand, as the Losians.
He missed Mata. He had never missed her before. She had been something pleasant but routine -- like three meals a day and the other comforts he had learned to expect in Sisu. Now he missed her.
Well, if that was what she wanted, why hadn't they let her? Not that he had thought about it . . . but as long as you had to get married some day, Mata would be as tolerable as any. He liked her.
Finally he remembered that there was one person with whom he could talk. He took his troubles to Doctor Mader.
He scratched at her door, received a hurried, "Come in!" He found her down on her knees, surrounded by possessions. She had a smudge on her nose and her neat hair was mussed. "Oh. Thorby. I'm glad you showed up. They told me you were dirtside and I was afraid I would miss you."
She spoke System English; he answered in it. "You wanted to see me?"
"To say good-by. I'm going home."
"Oh." Thorby felt again the sick twinge he had felt when Jeri had told about Mata. Suddenly he was wrenched with sorrow that Pop was gone. He pulled himself together and said, "I'm sorry
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