"Yeah," said the man. "She'll be my thirty-second wife."
"Your marriages can't last very long," said Staghorn. Despite the physical attractiveness of both Jenny and her escort, Staghorn began to feel clammy in their presence. He had an impression of deep ill health, a sense of unclean, almost reptilian lassitude.
"They get shorter all the time," said Jenny, and turned away as though the conversation bored her. The man too had lost interest.
Staghorn stood ignored for a moment and then spoke bluntly.
"Who are the Atavars?"
The word produced the first genuine reaction. Jenny leaped to her feet. The man turned red.
"Don't say that word!" Jenny said.
"I'm sorry. I'm a stranger."
"No one can be that much of a stranger!"
"It's indecent," the man said. He stood up and touched Jenny's arm. "I feel my blood pounding. Let's go get married."