"Certainly," said Sutton. "I would be delighted to."
"And someplace afterwards," she suggested. "We'll make an evening of it."
"Gladly," said Sutton.
"I'll meet you in the lobby at seven," she said. "And I won't be late."
The visor faded and Sutton sat stiffly in the chair.
They'd make an evening of it, she had said. And he was afraid she might be right.
They'd make an evening of it, and, he said, talking to himself, you'll be lucky if you're alive tomorrow.
X
Adams sat silently, facing the four men who had come into his office, trying to make out what they might be thinking. But their faces wore the masks of everyday.
Clark, the space construction engineer, clutched a field book in his hand and his face was set and stern. There was no foolishness about Clark…ever.