On the other hand, he thought, when a man knows and believes that someone actually is superior—then, he doesn't mind at all. He can depend on that superiority to help him. And love, ordinary man-and-woman love, just can't exist.
Nor, Malone told himself, would anyone want it to. It would, after all, be damned uncomfortable.
"So who's the girl?" Boyd said. "And where? The clubs are all closed, and the streets probably aren't very safe just now."
"Barbara Wilson," Malone said, "and Yucca Flats. I ought to be able to get a fast plane." He shrugged. "Or maybe teleport," he added.
"Sure," Boyd said. "But on a night with so many troubles—"
"Oh, King Henry," Malone said, "hearken. A man who looks as historical as you do ought to know a little history."
"Such as?" Boyd said, bristling slightly.
"There have always been troubles," Malone said. "In the Eighth Century, it was Saracens; in the Fourteenth, the Black Death. Then there was the Reformation, and the Prussians in 1870, and the Spanish in 1898, and—"
"And?" Boyd said.
Malone took a deep breath. He could almost feel the court dress flowing over him, as the court manners did. Lady Barbara, after all, attendant to Her Majesty, would expect a certain character from him.