For the first time a shadow of impatience darkened Romadka's geniality. "I told you I made some mistakes last night. I let someone get a hypo-beam on me, probably a drug spray too. For a time I wasn't responsible for my actions. It was all I could do to escape the FBL raid. But it won't happen again." His voice grew brisk. "So come on along with me, Phil, and bring your friend. There's no more time for discussion."
"But—" Phil began.
Dytie da Silva stepped into the foreground. "Me no go," she told Romadka. "Why should I? You sound crazy head. 'Lusion-'mune state? 'Rationalisms impossible? Abs'lute science? All nonsense!"
The psychoanalyst lifted his eyebrows at her accent and sentiments. "I was just about to take up your case, young lady. Why are you here in the first place?"
"Just come from room across," Dytie told him, jerking a thumb at the window.
Romadka studied her through narrowed eyes behind which memory seemed to be at work. Suddenly he smiled thinly. "The description tallies," he said. "You're the young woman Mr. Gish watched undressing last night, and onto whom he grafted a remarkable delusion."
"Phil, you never tell me about that," Dytie said, looking at him brightly.
"Naturally he wouldn't," Romadka said, a bit primly.
"Why not?" Dytie demanded. "I don care. If he like, okay."
Romadka looked at her contemptuously. "A common exhibitionist, I see. Nymphomania too."