Brooks looks grim. He is head over heels crazy about her now, and she knows it, and she rides him hard. She snaps at him, and he answers her patient and gentle—because he knows that when what he hopes is going to happen, she is going to need him to comfort her. She has about wiped out our stock, throwing bargain sales. Our shelves are almost bare. But the other trading post still has plenty of stock.
"Mr. Brooks," says Inspector Caldwell, bitter, at breakfast, "we'll have to take most of the Palmyra's cargo to fill up our inventory."
"Maybe," he says, tender, "and maybe not."
"But we've got to drive that other post out of business!" she says, desperate. Then she breaks down. "This—this is my first independent assignment. I've got to handle it successfully!"
He hesitates. But just then Deeth comes in. He beams friendly at Inspector Caldwell.
"A compliment for you, ma'am. Three of them."
She goggles at him. Brooks says, gentle, "It's all right. Deeth, show them in and get some presents."
Inspector Caldwell splutters incredulous, "But—but—"
"Don't be angry," says Brooks. "They mean it as a compliment. It is, actually, you know."
Three Moklin girls come in, giggling. They are not bad-looking at all. They look as human as Deeth, but one of them has a long, droopy mustache like a mate of the Palmyra—that's because they hadn't ever seen a human woman before Inspector Caldwell come along. They sure have admired her, though! And Moklin kids get born fast. Very fast.