"Pat!" it was a duet.
"Yeah, though you should both call her Miss Kennebec after this performance."
"You leave her out of this," snapped Lane.
"After one more statement. You fellows can fight all you want to, but remember, if you're fighting for Pat, just consider how she'd feel to A, if as and when A chilled B to get rid of B's competition. Now let's behave ourselves—and if you're asked, this was a fine shindy; a real interesting whingding."
Clancey saw the four of them emerge from the aura of dust and he held his head. "Look at 'em, chief. It ain't goin' to last. I know it ain't. Mis's Kennebec holding an arm of each of them and Mr. Thompson chatting to all three from behind."
"Clancey, this may be the calm before the storm. But from what I hear, both of them will be a long way from Sol when the tornado winds up. They're heading for the Big Man's office right now. He'll tell 'em."
"I think I get it," said Lane. "He wants us to analyze it. That's why this motion of our heads to the thing."
"You may be right."
"This is a long way from here, though. I don't quite get it."