She was shaking her head. "Not on the kind of girl she is—necessarily. On how much she loves him."
"Okay. That."
"Providing—she can love. Providing—she hasn't kidded herself into a sweet little daydream that she got from reading too many women's magazines. Or all those books. She sure was a reading girl. And smart. And attractive, too. How tough are you, Phil?"
"It's something you do, isn't it? Not fill out in a questionnaire?"
Hattie smiled. "I don't want to offend those fine sensibilities of yours. Or make you think I'm something special in the she-Judas line. But you want to know whether the girl means it. Why not send your Paul back to his laboratory after lunch—he'd like that—like you to get acquainted with her—and why not—?"
"I'm not tough that way. That's businessman tough."
She dropped a hand. "Still—there's hardly one of them in a thousand who wouldn't—work out some breezy little arrangement—for a G, say. And she'd have to be such a one."
"She might just see through it. You said she was smart."
Hattie shrugged. "If she was smart enough to resist the G, maybe she'd be smart enough. However."
"In other words, you don't know about her."