"I can—and often do—read newsprint."
"Oh, you read, too?"
"Shut up," he snapped, "and stop sounding like a character out of a bum play. You know what I'm trying to tell you. You've been the high priestess of this chateau ever since you were seventeen. D'ye know any seventeen-year-old that has any sense?"
"Ah—"
"I know," he grinned cheerfully. "Patricia Kennebec at seventeen."
"I've not been here—"
"No, you've been to college, and stuff like that where people have been kowtowing to you. Well, either you have that glazed-personality for self-protection or I wouldn't have you on a bet!"
"Huh?" asked the girl. And her father swallowed, took a deep but silent breath and wondered what next?
"Wonderful woman," he laughed. "Three of the top men in the Solar Guard chasing after you. Gives you quite a feeling of superiority, doesn't it?"
"I—"