Bodger, misinterpreting both their reactions according to his own notion of the night before, immediately said, "No need to be afraid. A thing like this is better out in the open. I can understand how two young people in love might—"
"Dad!" Lloyd said abruptly. Bodger halted and waited for his son's words. Lloyd, speaking to his father the words that were actually intended for Grace's ears, said, with deep earnest, "It wasn't like that, Dad. She slept on my bed, with her clothes on. I slept on the rug. We—We just had to be together, that's all. I've done nothing you should feel ashamed of."
The sudden smile on Grace's face caught at Lloyd's heart.
"That's a help, son," Bodger said, likewise convinced. "To me, at any rate. The point, unfortunately, is that any persons who observed you going up to our Unit with Grace could not be expected to presume the best, if you see what I mean?"
"I do, Dad," Lloyd mumbled contritely. "And I wish it had never happened."
"It wouldn't have," Bodger pontificated, "if Grace hadn't gone to the wrong Temple Service. I can see how she might dislike the change in her attendance-period, meaning she'd be unable to attend with you, anymore, but it was the wrong thing to do. If she'd stayed home, none of this would've happened."
The irony of this last statement, while it missed Bodger completely, brought a small, one-syllable burst of laughter from Grace's lips, which she quickly stoppered. Lloyd jumped into the breach swiftly, to distract his father from a dangerous line of conjecture.
"Dad, there was something bothered me last night—In the Temple, I mean, about that fugitive girl?"
"What about her?" said his father, unprepared for the statement to the extent that he made an automatic response without having time to notice he was being diverted.
"The check-up for the girl, Dad. It seemed kind of—I hate to use the word, but it's the only one—inefficient, at least to me."