She froze suddenly, a gasp of horror half suppressed. She was seeing things—sensing things beyond comprehension—
"QX, Mac," the thought went quietly on within her mind, quite as though nothing unusual were occurring. "No intrusion meant. You didn't think it; I already knew that if you started dating ahead you'd be tied up until day after tomorrow. Can I have the next one?"
"Sure, Kim."
"Thanks—the Lens is off for the rest of the evening."
She sighed in relief as he snapped the telepathic line as though he were hanging up the receiver of a telephone.
"I'd like to dance with you all, kids," he addressed a large group of buds surrounding him and eying him hungrily, "but I've got this next one. See you later, perhaps," and he was gone.
"Sorry, fellows," he remarked casually, as he made his way through the circle of men around the gorgeous redhead. "Sorry, but this dance is mine, isn't it, Miss MacDougall?"
She nodded, flashing the radiant smile which had so aroused his ire during his hospitalization. "I heard you invoke your spaceman's god, but I was beginning to be afraid that you had forgotten this dance."
"And she said she wasn't dating ahead—the diplomat!" murmured an ambassador, aside.