"Are you talking about robots," asked Henry, "or the girl?"
"Same thing, isn't it? Or it would be if I'd decided to bring her home with me."
"Conflict of desires," murmured Henry.
"Exactly! It's maddening to have a perfectly logical action interfered with because there's another person present to insist—insist, mind you—on having her way."
"And for twenty-odd years, you've had your own way in every tiny thing."
Somewhere in the back of Robert's lurked a feeling that Henry sounded slightly sarcastic.
"Well, why shouldn't I?" he demanded. "I noticed that in every disagreement, my view was the right one."
"It was?"
"Of course it was! What did you mean by that tone?"
"Nothing...." Henry seemed lost in thought. "I was just wondering how many 'right' views are left on this planet. There must be quite a few, all different, even if we have picked up only a few by television. An interesting facet of our peculiar culture—every individual omnipotent and omniscient, within his own sphere."