“You’re Jean and George, aren’t you?” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Rupert is doing something complicated with the drinks — come along and meet everybody.”
Her voice was a rich contralto that sent little shivers running up and down George’s back, as if someone was playing on his spine like a flute. He looked nervously at Jean, who had managed to force a somewhat artificial smile, and finally recovered his voice.
“It’s — it’s very nice to meet you,” he said lamely. ’We’ve been looking forward to this party.”
“Rupert always gives such nice parties,” put in Jean. By the way she accented the “always", one knew perfectly well she was thinking “Every time he gets married”. George flushed slightly and gave Jean a glance of reproof, but there was no sign that their hostess noticed the barb. She was friendliness itself as she ushered them into the main lounge, already half packed with a representative collection of Rupert’s numerous friends. Rupert himself was sitting at the console of what seemed to be a television engineer’s control unit; it was, George assumed, the device that had projected his image out to meet them. He was busily demonstrating it by surprising two more arrivals as they descended into the parking place, but paused just long enough to greet Jean and George and to apologize for having given their drinks to somebody else.
“You’ll find plenty more over there,” he said, waving one hand vaguely behind him while he adjusted controls with the other. “Just make yourselves at home. You know most of the people here — Maia will introduce you to the rest. Good of you to come.”
“Good of you to invite us,” said Jean, without much conviction. George had already departed towards the bar and she made her way after him, occasionally exchanging greetings with someone she recognized. About three-quarters of those present were perfect strangers, which was the normal state of affairs at one of Rupert’s parties.
“Let’s explore,” she said to George when they had refreshed themselves and waved to everyone they knew. “I want to look at the house.”
George, with a barely concealed backward look at Maia Boyce, followed after her. There was a faraway look in his eyes that Jean didn’t like in the least. It was such a nuisance that men were fundamentally polygamous. On the other hand, if they weren’t. Yes, perhaps it was better this way, after all.
George quickly came back to normal as they investigated the wonders of Rupert’s new abode. The house seemed very large for two people, but this was just as well in view of the frequent overloads it would have to handle. There were two stories, the upper considerably larger so that it overhung and provided shade around the ground floor. The degree of mechanization was considerable, and the kitchen closely resembled the cockpit of an airliner.
“Poor Ruby!” said Jean. “She would have loved this place.”