She left, and Channing went with her, arguing as he went to the effect that she should develop a disregard for things like their discussion. As a matter of interest, Channing had his roast knolla that evening, so he must have convinced Arden.
Walt said: "And then there were three. Christine, has our little pre-dinner talk disturbed your appetite?"
"Not in the least," said the girl stoutly. "I wouldn't care whether it was knolla or pussy cat. I've been on Mars so long that either one of the little felines is alien to me. What have you to offer?"
"We'll hit Joe's for dinner, which is the best bar in sixty million miles today. Later we may take in the latest celluloid epic, and then there will be a bit of mixed wrestling in the ballroom."
"Mixed wres—Oh, you mean dancing. Sounds interesting. Now?"
"Now. Wes, what are you heading for?"
"Oh, I've got on a cockeyed schedule," said Wes. "I've been catching my sleep at more and more out-of-phase hours until this is not too long after breakfast for me. You birds all speak of 'Tomorrow,' 'Today' and 'Yesterday' out here, but this business of having no sun to come up in the morning, and the electric lights running all the time has me all bollixed up."
"That daily nomenclature is purely from habit," said Walt. "As you know, we run three equal shifts of eight hours each, and therefore what may be 'Morning' to Bill is 'Noon' to James and 'Night' to Harry. It is meaningless, but habitual to speak of 'Morning' when you mean 'Just after I get up!' Follow me?"
"Yup. This, then, is morning to me. Run along and have fun."
"We'll try," said Walt.