Boyd nodded his head. “Well—” he began.
“Oh, yes, Sir Thomas,” Her Majesty said. “What you’re thinking is certainly possible. It may even be true.”
“What is he thinking?” Malone said.
“He thinks,” Her Majesty said, “that I may not have the talent for this particular effect—and perhaps I don’t. But, talent or not, I know what’s possible and what isn’t. And the way Mr. Taylor describes it is simply silly, that’s all. And unladylike. Imagine any self-respecting lady ‘squirting’ her thoughts about in space!”
“Well,” Malone said carefully, “aside from its being unladylike—”
“Sir Kenneth,” Her Majesty said, “you are not telepathic. Neither is Sir Thomas.”
“I’m nothing,” Boyd said. “I don’t even exist.”
“And it is very difficult to explain to the non-telepath just what Mr. Taylor is implying,” Her Majesty went on imperturbably. “Before you could inject any thoughts into anyone else’s mind, you’d have to be able to see into that mind. Is that correct?”
“I guess so,” Malone said.
“And in order to do that, you’d have to be telepathic,” Her Majesty said. “Am I correct?”