He forced himself up to his feet, and she helped him to master the
complications of the drapery.

"Poor man--how you are suffering!" she said, in the same inaudible
language. This time he discovered that the sense of what she said
was received by his brain through the organ on his forehead.

"Where am I? Is this Tormance?" he asked. As he spoke, he staggered.

She caught him, and helped him to sit down. "Yes. You are with
friends."

Then she regarded him with a smile, and began speaking aloud, in
English. Her voice somehow reminded him of an April day, it was so
fresh, nervous, and girlish. "I can now understand your language.
It was strange at first. In the future I'll speak to you with my
mouth."

"This is extraordinary! What is this organ?" he asked, touching his
forehead.

"It is named the 'breve.' By means of it we read one another's
thoughts. Still, speech is better, for then the heart can be read
too."

He smiled. "They say that speech is given us to deceive others."

"One can deceive with thought, too. But I'm thinking of the best,
not the worst."