"Sit down, Joe," Arden grunted, picking himself a convenient, padded chair.
Surprisingly, Joe shook his head. "No," he said, and for the first time he looked embarrassed. There was a slight flush under his tan.
The table talk stopped again. George Keating, the thin, wiry electrical engineer, said half-jokingly:
"Afraid you'll get contaminated?"
Joe's tan skin lost its red of embarrassment, twisted strangely.
"Sorry," put in Keating hastily. "Only joking."
Joe swallowed. Then: "I'm just superstitious, I guess." The words rushed out. "If I sit down, that'll make thirteen."
Ed Parman, black-haired assistant to Black Tom, jumped hastily to his feet. "Good gravy, he's right. You sit down, Joe, I'll finish my pudding in the corner."
Joe said: "Sit down. I'm used to discomfort. I'm a wooder." He grinned. Parman grinned back, started in on his pudding.