"Sorry, sir. I'll speak to him at once." He bowed again as Jasperson strode on.
"Then could we—" Tom began.
Davis whirled with an impatient frown. "What? Are you still here? Surely I made it clear that there's nothing I can do, Mr. Hall?"
"But couldn't you at least move us to another table?"
"I regret that you are dissatisfied with our arrangements. All table space was allocated before we took off from Y-port."
"But you've put us with such noisy people!" said Tom stubbornly. "They keep talking about how much money they made in deutonium, and they refer to us, right in front of us, as the babes in the woods. They may be rich, but they haven't the manners of a six-year old. We can't stay at that table."
"Mr. Hall, I can't waste any more time with you. If all our passengers were to demand special privileges—" He shrugged his shoulders.
Dorothy Hall whispered shyly, "Ask him, then, what about that man?" and she nodded her head slightly to the right.
"Yes," said Tom. "You say there isn't enough room, but what about that table over there? It's made to seat two, and there's just that one man who eats alone."