Min agreed it was probably the best idea.
"We don't have to be nasty about it," she said. "We'll just tell him this is a respectable spotel and it can't go on any longer."
When Frank checked in at the Io with his cargo I don't think I ever saw a happier mech. His relay banks were beating a tattoo like someone had installed an accordion in his chest. Before either of us could break the bad news to him he was hotfooting it around the wheel toward 22A.
"Maybe it's better this way," I whispered to Min. "We'll put it square up to both of them."
We gave Frank half an hour to get the girl assembled before we followed him. He must have done a fast job because we heard the girl mech's vibrahum unit as soon as we got to 22A:
"Darling, have you really been away? I don't remember saying good-bye. It's as if you'd been here the whole time."
"I hoped it would be that way, Elizabeth," we heard the big servo say. "It's only that your memory tape hasn't recorded anything in the three weeks I've been in the asteroids. To me it's been like three years."
"Oh, Frank, darling, let me look at you. Is your DX potential up where it should be? How long since you've had a thorough overhauling? Do they make you work in the mines with those poor non-rationaloids out there?"
"I'm fine, Elizabeth, really. When I'm not flying they give me clerical work to do. It's not a bad life for a mech—if only it weren't for these silly regulations that keep us apart."
"It won't always be like that, darling. I know it won't."