Fees/Admission

"What have I done now?" I asked, in sore perplexity. "Some day you shall know, John Carter, if we live; but I may not tell you.  And I, the daughter of Mors Kajak, son of Tardos Mors, have listened without anger," she soliloquized in conclusion. Then she broke out again into one of her gay, happy, laughing moods; joking with me on my prowess as a Thark warrior as contrasted with my soft heart and natural kindliness. "I presume that should you accidentally wound an enemy you would take him home and nurse him back to health," she laughed. "That is precisely what we do on Earth," I answered.  "At least among civilized men." This made her laugh again.  She could not understand it, for, with all her tenderness and womanly sweetness, she was still a Martian, and to a Martian the only good enemy is a dead enemy; for every dead foeman means so much more to divide between those who live. I was very curious to know what I had said or done to cause her so much perturbation a moment before and so I continued to importune her to enlighten me. "No," she exclaimed, "it is enough that you have said it and that I have listened.  And when you learn, John Carter, and if I be dead, as likely I shall be ere the further moon has circled Barsoom another twelve