"It's pretty good." Mark said cautiously. "It's custom made to a private specification."
The officer grinned goodnaturedly. "Sure, I understand. That's all right. I'm not from the revenue department. I don't have to do anything about bootlegging."
"I don't mean that." Mark protested. "There's nothing illegal—"
The man waved his disregard anyway. "Forget it. It's a nice one, though. And that copper color is coming back soon, too. These fashions run in cycles, you know."
"Yes," Mark murmured diffidently. "I thought so, too."
"Sure." The officer eyed it speculatively for a moment. "Two point oh one centimeter naval, isn't it? They're the best, of course." Mark nodded shortly, looking away from the talkative officer, hoping he would stop. But the man went on. "And I don't have any use for these new non-feeders they've been coming out with recently."
"No," Mark mumbled.
"It's all right to fix it so that the food is not necessary, and it really is a bother to have to feed those old models whether you want to or not. But sometimes you like to eat something just for the fun of it, and with the non-feeder models there's no receptacle for it."
Mark nodded, his eyes searching the huge anteroom, gazing hopefully between the moving ranks of robot servants. Then he saw her and caught his breath.