Her head came up like a rocket at blastoff.
"Hold it!" she said. "You can't put me off with that old one—that's Standard Answer No. 1 in the City Manager's guidebook and I ain't buying it, Buster. I used to work at the Civic Machine myself, so I know all the Standard Answers backward and forward."
"Well, I assure you, madam—" I said.
"Don't hand me that stuff again. What I want is for you to call off the Civic Machine and quit trying to roof the only place left where our children can feel the open air and sunshine."
"I see. You aren't going to be satisfied with anything else," I said.
"That's right."
"I'm sorry, but that's impossible. We have programmed the roofing job for next month on the Civic Machine and we can't change it now."
"That, Mr. Ro, is a lie," she said, leaning across my desk and sticking a slim white finger under my nose. "I know you can change it in five minutes if you want to."
"It won't be changed," I said.
"Is that your final word?"