"Mary Ann, you have two other flaws I feel I should mention."

"Yes? Please tell me."

"In the first place," said Pembroke, "you should be willing to fall in
love with me even if it will eventually make you unhappy. How can you be
the paramour type if you refuse to fall in love foolishly? And when you
have fallen in love, you should be very loyal."

"I'll try," she said unsurely. "What else?"

"The other thing is that, as my mistress, you must never mention me to
anyone. It would place me in great danger."

"I'll never tell anyone anything about you," she promised.

"Now try to love me," Pembroke said, drawing her into his arms and
kissing with little pleasure the smooth, warm perfection of her tanned
cheeks. "Love me my sweet, beautiful, affectionate Mary Ann. My
paramour."

Making love to Mary Ann was something short of ecstasy. Not for any
obvious reason, but because of subtle little factors that make a woman a
woman. Mary Ann had no pulse. Mary Ann did not perspire. Mary Ann did
not fatigue gradually but all at once. Mary Ann breathed regularly under
all circumstances. Mary Ann talked and talked and talked. But then, Mary
Ann was not a human being.

When she left the hotel at midnight, Pembroke was quite sure that she
understood his plan and that she was irrevocably in love with him.
Tomorrow might bring his death, but it might also ensure his escape.
After forty-two years of searching for a passion, for a cause, for a
loyalty, Frank Pembroke had at last found his. Earth and the human race
that peopled it. And Mary Ann would help him to save it.

* * * * *

The next morning Pembroke talked to Valencia about hunting. He said that
he planned to go shooting out on the desert which surrounded the city.
Valencia told him that there were no living creatures anywhere but in
the city. Pembroke said he was going out anyway.

He picked up Mary Ann at her apartment and together they went to a
sporting goods store. As he guessed there was a goodly selection of
firearms, despite the fact that there was nothing to hunt and only a
single target range within the city. Everything, of course, had to be
just like Earth. That, after all, was the purpose of Puerto Pacifico.

By noon they had rented a jeep and were well away from the city.
Pembroke and Mary Ann took turns firing at the paper targets they had
purchased. At twilight they headed back to the city. On the outskirts,
where the sand