She smiled at that, though her blood raced and her fingers itched to make red ribbons of his face. "I've got plenty of reason to be disagreeable—"
"Okay, okay," he said; "let's not go through that again." He got up. "I'm going up to the observation platform." And he went down the aisle between the rows of seats and disappeared through a door at the farthest end.
She glared after him. That was always his way, running out on an argument. Well, when this trip was over, there would be no more running away.
A man dropped into the seat beside her.
"This seat's taken," she said automatically, and then realized the man must have known, since all seats were reserved.
"I know," the man said. "I'd like to talk to you."
She studied him for a moment. He had a rather common face, one with no particularly outstanding features, a face that would be difficult to remember, she thought. He wore a plain business suit, with a conventional white shirt and an unobtrusive tie. He did not appear the wolfish type to her, but rather the ordinary businessman you might see hanging onto helibus straps anyplace on Earth.
"You want to talk to me?" she said carefully. "About what?"
"Your divorce," the man said simply.
"My divorce? But—" She stopped. She was about to say, "But how did you know?" when it suddenly occurred to her that George might have hired this man to find out if she were planning one of those rapid Arcturan separations. She hadn't thought to wonder if he suspected she was planning one. If he knew about her divorce plans, he might take counter measures just for spite; with Arcturan divorce regulations as they were, that would be bad.