" But ... do you ... dost thou admit what I said is ... possible?" No. It is not possible." Why dost thou say it's not possible?" Because I KNOW who I am." Jonas -- earlier thou asked me to suspend MY faith ... and thou said that THY faith in thine own eyes perceiving reality was as profound and as strong and as untestable as MY faith in my lord. Those were your words. I set aside my faith and agreed that thy proposition on our sacred writing was POSSIBLE however unlikely. Why can thou not set aside THY faith and concede the possibility -- however unlikely -- that thou art indeed a holy messenger?" You've been thinking about this all afternoon, haven't you?" Harrah broke into a broad grin. Jonas glared at her. "Eat your sandwich. Tomorrow after breakfast I'll escort you back to you compound." He watched her take bites. "And not a moment too soon," he muttered under his breath.Jonas led the way up the ridge, poking his staff into the turf as he climbed. Beside him Harrah trudged. "Are. And you’ve not been here long enough to be entrusted any of the other jobs in the community. I don’t think anyone would vote for you. And anyway there aren’t any vacant positions for teachers or house-builders or whatever.” “Isn’t there anything else?” “Well, you do get a lot of sex at work. The men like you. And they especially like Buttercup. And I don’t blame them!” She kissed Tracey’s lover tenderly on the cheek, but noticing the jealous daggers flashing from Tracey’s eyes she chose not to reveal any more of her lust . “Sex is something you two are always going to get while you work with men. Just like Theta. She had to put up with it every day just like you. But she could find ways to make herself useful in the community. So, given that you’re going to have sex whether you like it or not in the factories, why not sell it rather than give it away?” “You mean fucking prostitution, don’t you?” snapped Tracey. “I’m not a fucking tart. I’ve got my fucking principles. And my darling.
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