"Sure that was all?" Costigan asked. "Didn't he add 'and stay scrammed'?"
"He didn't say it, exactly, but the implication was clear enough."
"The one point of similarity," Jill commented. "Now you, Jack. You have been looking as though we were all candidates for canvas jackets that lace tightly up the back."
"Uh-uh. As though maybe I am. I didn't see anything at all. Didn't even land on the planet. Just floated around in an orbit inside that screen. The thing I talked with was a pattern of pure force. This Lens simply appeared on my wrist, bracelet and all, out of thin air. He told me plenty, though, in a very short time—his last word being for me not to come back or call back."
"Hm ... m ... m." This of Jack's was a particularly indigestible bit, even for Jill Samms.
"In plain words," Costigan volunteered, "we all saw exactly what we expected to see."
"Uh-uh," Jill denied. "I certainly did not expect to see a woman ... no; what each of us saw, I think, was what would do us the most good—give each of us the highest possible lift. I am wondering whether or not there was anything at all really there."
"That might be it, at that." Jack scowled in concentration. "But there must have been something there—these Lenses are real. But what makes me mad is that they wouldn't give you a Lens. You're just as good a man as any one of us—if I didn't know it wouldn't do a damn bit of good I'd go back there right now and...."
"Don't pop off so, Jack!" Jill's eyes, however, were starry. "I know you mean it, and I could almost love you, at times—but I don't need a Lens. As a matter of fact, I'll be much better off without one."
"Jet back, Jill!" Jack Kinnison stared deeply into the girl's eyes—but still did not use his Lens. "Somebody must have done a terrific job of selling, to make you believe that ... or are you sold, actually?"