Having finished the book, she held it primly in her lap, tapping impatiently on it with her fingers.
There's a lot of things funny about this boy, she thought. I've got to get more information about him. I've got a suspicion he's going to be in for a few surprises.
(It was less than an hour before the aliens would cut off the larger transmitter.)
When I first located him for sure, she thought, he was traveling much too fast; faster and higher than any experimental rocket I've ever heard of.
I've got to check on the old flying saucer reports, she thought. They're the only things I can remember reading about that were supposed to move that fast.
"This is him waiting up here," Julia said to the driver. "Just pull over to the curb."
A moment later, opening the door, she said, "Get in. I'm Julia."
"I'm Walt Johnson," he said, flexing his hands. "Let's go someplace where we can be alone."
"Well," she said. "It's good to see you, Walt." She extended her hand.
He had sealed off his thoughts. His hand was moist in hers; it responded uncertainly to her warm pressure. She drew him inside. She caught a wisp of thought that he was not quite able to conceal. "Back to the hotel," she told the driver.