The door closed softly behind the three of them before Tony Graydon turned to Hedgerly and said: "What kind of high-octane are you using in your crystal ball these days, Swami?"
"Swami? But please, this is not the work of a charlatan. This is historic fact."
"Sure. So is my girl marrying that bird, huh?"
"They will marry," replied Hedgerly.
"Yeah? That's not very complimentary to me," snapped Graydon. "I've been number One man with Marie for quite some time now. I hardly think—"
"Give them time," replied Hedgerly succinctly. "In a short period, the propinquity in which they are thrust—"
Graydon whirled Hedgerly around by grabbing both lapels of the coat in one large, well manicured hand. "Propinquity!" exploded Graydon in full volume, which was enough to cause endless echoes up and down the corridor. Then even the echoes had echoes for a full minute.
Joan Willson backed out of the way. The hand that enclosed both lapels of Hedgerly's coat looked well manicured and in excellent care, but she had a firm hunch that well-tended included the matter of keeping it firm, hard, and dangerous. Graydon was no cream puff, and of a size where even a cream puff is respected.
But Graydon did not dust his knuckles off against Hedgerly's nose. Breeding came to the fore, and Graydon let the other man relax. "Propinquity," he said in a level voice that sounded very firm, "presupposes that you and I and possibly Miss Willson are going to spend some time in hurling my fiancee and that character together."
"Of course we are," replied Hedgerly, with all of the assurance in the world.