"Since this afternoon," he said.
"How did you find out about it? That information is supposed in some quarters to be a well-guarded secret."
"Secret?" Tove said.
Chip pulled at Retief's arm.
"Mister," he said in Retief's ear. "Come here a minute."
Retief looked at Anne-Marie, across at Tove and Bo Bergman. He rubbed the side of his face with his hand.
"Excuse me," he said. He followed Chip to one side of the room.
"Listen!" Chip said. "Maybe I'm goin' bats, but I'll swear there's somethin' funny here. I'm back there mixin' a sauce knowed only to me and the devil and I be dog if them gals don't pass me ever dang spice I need, without me sayin' a word. Come to put my souffle in the oven—she's already set, right on the button at 350. An' just now I'm settin' lookin' at one of 'em bendin' over a tub o' apples—snazzy little brunette name of Leila—derned if she don't turn around and say—" Chip gulped. "Never mind. Point is...." His voice nearly faltered. "It's almost like these folks was readin' my mind!"
Retief patted Chip on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about your sanity, Old Timer," he said. "That's exactly what they're doing."