"Yes! He doesn't believe in me a bit!"
"I don't either," I grinned. "Remember, you're the fake who says we're getting married."
"We are, too!" she said, sulking. "He made me tell him a thousand things," she added, going over to her couch where three dresses were draped. "What should I wear?"
"The blue one," I said. "Blue-eyed blondes should wear blue." I was stretching a point. "What did he make you PC?"
"All about the weather," she said, somewhat muffled as she slipped the dress over her head. I helped her with a zipper and a catch. "About thirty cities, Lefty. He made me tell him the temperature and the barometric pressure every hour for about a month! I never did anything like that before."
"Um-m-m," I said, as she fooled around getting her hair in some sort of shape with a clip. It was straight hair, and not much could be done with it. "Were you right, though?"
"Yes," she said, convinced. "I was very sure. Lefty, I want to do it, for you!"
"Sure," I said. "Let's go."
The Lodge has good food, but you get tired of hanging around with a bunch of Psi's, so we went on the town and found a good spot for dinner. What with rubber-necking at the big city, it was some after ten o'clock before we got back to the Chapter House and rode up to her apartment.
Pheola was bubbling happily about our evening. As she keyed open her door, I pushed her into her place and came in with her.