"Not direct detection," agreed Lindsay, facing Grant again.
Grant nodded. Then Garrard said: "I've an idea. But I'm mentioning it to no one."
"Why?"
"I don't want to tip my hand."
"Thought you weren't a gambler," jeered Grant.
"I'm not. I can't foresee the future, written though it is. I'll play it my way, according to my opinion. The fact that I feel this way about it is obviously because it is written so."
"Oh Brother!" grunted Jack Grant. "With everything all written in the Book of Acts, you still do things as you please because so long as you desire to do things that way it is obvious that the Gods wrote it?"
Garrard flushed. And Lindsay said: "Grant, you're a born trouble-maker."
"Maybe I should go out and take the next one apart. I'm still willing to bet my life against a bunch of Martians." Then he looked at Jenna. "I'm sorry, Jenna."
"Don't be," she said. "I may be Martian, but it's in ancestry only. I gave up my heritage when I set eyes on Ralph, you know." Then she stood up. "I'm definitely NOT running out," she laughed. "I'm going down to put on more coffee. I think this may be a long, cold winter."