"That should require only a moment to arrange," said Winstead, rising to fill a pitcher with ice water. Fifty credits a night! he thought. Wait till I get my hands on her shipping schedules!
Hardly five minutes later, they all spilled out of the elevator into the lobby. Carole was still rather damp and angry. Cecil Feigelson's suitcase zipper was only three-quarters closed. Fortunately, he was wearing pants under the girl's dressing gown, which clashed horribly with Winstead's rumpled orange suit.
"Hey!" someone yelped as they blazed through the lobby.
Young Wilfie catapulted from a chair where he appeared to have been dozing.
Doesn't he have a home? wondered Winstead.
By the time they reached Carole's groundcar outside, the youth had somehow inserted himself into the group in place of the farmer. Winstead set the machine in motion while the others were scrambling for seats.
"Do you know how to drive one of these, friend?" asked Feigelson.
"I am an expert groundcar operator," Winstead assured him.
Unfortunately, he was soon forced to admit, he was accustomed to Terran cars that floated on cushions of air. Although bumps in the spaceport road encouraged a good deal of floating at the speed he was making, the Gelbchen vehicle was really designed for less intermittent wheel-to-ground contact.