lack of objectivity annoyed him. Should he be this way? Was he
right to identify them as individuals and treat them as persons
rather than things? The passing months had failed to rob them of their
personalities: they had not become the faceless mass of a herd of cattle
or a flock of sheep. They were still not essentially different
from humans--and wouldn't men themselves lose many of their human
characteristics if they were herded into barracks and treated as
property for forty generations? Wouldn't men, too, approach the animal
condition if they were bred and treated as beasts, their pedigrees
recorded, their types winnowed and selected? The thought was annoying.

It would be better, Kennon reflected, if he didn't have time to think,
if he were so busy he could drop to his bed exhausted each night and
sleep without dreaming, if he could keep on the run so fast that he
wouldn't have time to sit and reflect. But he had done his work too
well. He had trained his staff too thoroughly. They could handle the
petty routines of minor treatment and laboratory tests as well as he. He
had only the intellectual stimulation of atypical cases and these were
all too rare. The routine inspections were boring, yet he forced himself
to make them because the filled the time. The hospital wards were
virtually empty of patients, the work was up to date, the whole island
was enjoying a carnival of health, and Kennon was still impaled upon
the horns of his dilemma. It wasn't so bad now that the first shock was
over, but it was bad enough--and showed no signs of getting better. Now
that Copper realized he wanted her, she did nothing to make his life
easier. Instead she did her best to get underfoot, usually in some
provocative position. It was enough to try the patience of a marble
statue Kennon reflected grimly. But it did have its humorous side
and were it not for the fact that Copper wasn't human could have
been thoroughly enjoyable. That, however, was the real hell of it. He
couldn't relax and enjoy the contest--his feet were on too slippery
ground. And Copper with her unerring female instinct knew just what to
do to make the footing slipperier. Sooner or later, she was certain that
he would fall. It was only a question of applying sufficient pressure at
the right spot and the right time. Now that she knew he desired her,
she was content to wait. The only thing that had bothered her was the
uncertainty whether he cared or not. For Copper