All nice young men, he decided, should be turned into ugly old men as soon as possible. That'll fix them!
He noticed the little old lady smiling at him, and tried to change his thoughts rapidly. But the little old lady said nothing at all.
"At any rate," Barbara said, "I'm afraid that we just can't—"
Dr. Harman cleared his throat imperiously. It was a most impressive noise, and everyone turned to look at him. His face was a little gray, but he looked, otherwise, like a rather pudgy, blond, crew-cut Roman emperor.
"Just a moment," he said with dignity. "I think you're doing the United States of America a grave injustice, Miss Wilson—and that you're doing an injustice to Miss Thompson, too."
"What do you mean?" she said.
"I think it would be nice for her to get away from me—I mean from here," the psychiatrist said. "Where did you say you were taking her?" he asked Malone.
"Yucca Flats," Malone said.
"Ah." The news seemed to please the psychiatrist. "That's a long distance from here, isn't it? It's quite a few hundred miles away. Perhaps even a few thousand miles away. I feel sure that will be the best thing for me—I mean, of course, for Miss Thompson. I shall recommend that the court so order."
"Doctor—" But even Barbara saw, Malone could tell, that it was no good arguing with Dr. Harman. She tried a last attack. "Doctor, who's going to take care of her?"