"Fine," he said.
"Yes, we are," said the Venusian girl, emphasizing her use of the 'we'.
"Cliff will do better now," said Ava.
"The lady knows me," chuckled Maculay.
"Every sharpshooter in Melaxis knows you," snapped the Venusian. "But do you know her?"
Ava laughed. Her voice was a pleasant contralto, throaty, suggestive as she said, "No, he doesn't know me. Yet. Which, darling, gives me an advantage, doesn't it?"
"Don't darling me—"
Ava's previous escort was a man of experience, possessor of a fresh hundred, and willing to play the game. His was the simple logic of the wolf; far better to have a woman you might be able to get than one who wanted someone else. Furthermore, he knew enough about human nature to toss a few cupfuls of oil on an already interesting fire. "See here," he said to Maculay, "what's the idea of making passes at my girl?"
Maculay laughed uproariously. He pushed his chair back and stood up, alert. "If she were your girl she'd not be asking me how 'we're' doing," he told the man.