RANSVESTIA

now, not male. It's going to take a really long while, even doses of male hormones, to get you back to even a semblance of your true sex."

"No," both Jean and Robert Cort spoke at once. Then they stared at one another.

"So," said Dr. Aaronson. "I wondered which of you if had been. And now I see. It was both of you."

"But the dosages were very light," Jean protested, tears coming to her eyes. "You said so, didn't you, Robert?" She turned to the husband of her husband. Bob Cort gave her a grim little smile. "They weren't to harm Angie, you said, "Hysteria was rising in her voice. "They just helped her to be what she is." She quoted Bob Cort from memory.

"And what am I, Jean?" There were tears as well as a hurt expression in Angie's eyes. "Just what am I?"

"You're my wife!" Robert Cort cut in savagely. He turned from the bookcase, his eyes blazing. "My wife, whom every two-bit actor gets to hold and to caress on the movie set, but whom I never get to touch. You're my wife, the most beautiful woman in the world, and you insist that I treat you like another man. Well, I can't Angie," his voice was very unsteady and there was something wild-eyed and scary about the way he eyed Angie. "I can't treat you with kid gloves anymore. You can't possibly be a man. That's so obvious. But you can be a woman. You can go to the other extreme, and then you'll be a proper wife."

Jean was as scandalized as Angie. "Oh! How can you say such a thing!" She stood and looked for a moment like she might strike Bob Cort.

"Oh, Bob," Angie was again biting her lower lip. "Have we hurt you that much in this business?"

Robert Cort stepped away from the bookcase, eased around the sofa and sat down. He put his head in his hands. "Living with you at Whiteside is torture," he said huskily. "You float around the house in those negligees I make you buy, always just out of reach to me. You never let me touch you."

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