"Maybe I did."

"Don't you have anything but ice water in your veins?"

He shrugged. "If you prick us, do we not bleed?"

"Don't talk dirty."

He took her by the arm and headed for the big glass doors at the far end of the room, "Come on, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

He pushed the door open and they stepped out onto the balcony. Shatterproof plastic enclosed it and shielded them from the humid, hazy Washington evening—and from the occasional sniper who might be on the roofs across the street.

"Being a senator hath its privileges," Kinsman said. "My apartment over in Alexandria is about the size of this balcony. And no air-conditioning allowed."

Diane was not listening. She stretched catlike and pressed against the plastic shielding. To Kinsman she looked like a sleek black leopard: supple, fascinating, dangerous.

"Sunset," she said, looking toward the slice of red sky visible down the street. "Loveliest time of the day."

"Loneliest time, too,"

She turned to him, her eyes showing genuine surprise. "Lonely? You? I never thought of you as being lonely. I always pictured you surrounded by friends."

"Or enemies," Kinsman heard himself say.

"You never did marry, did you?" 182

"You did."

"That was a long time ago. It's even been over for a long time."

"I orbited right over your wedding," he said. "I waved, but you didn't wave back."

Her eyebrows went up. "You walked out on me, remem- ber? More than once. It wasn't my idea for you to go. You chose a goddamned airplane over me."

"I was young and foolish."

"You'd still make the same choice today, and we both know it. Only now you want to go to the Moon."

Kinsman looked into her deep, dark eyes. She was not angry with him. Curious, perhaps. Puzzled. Hurt?

He said, "That doesn't mean I like making the choices that way, Diane. We all have our problems, you know."

"You? You have problems? Weaknesses?"

"I've got a few, tucked away here and there."

"Why do you hide them?"

"Because nobody else gives a damn about them." Before Diane could reply, he said, "I sound sorry for myself, don't I?"