"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?"
A light the size and shape of North America burst in Malone's mind. He almost chortled. But he managed to keep his voice under control. "What she needs," he said, "is a trained psychiatric nurse."
Barbara Wilson gave him a look that had carloads of U235 stacked away in it, but Malone barely minded. She'd get over it, he told himself.
"Now, wasn't that sweet of you to think of that," the little old lady said. Malone looked at her and was rewarded with another wink.
"I'm certainly glad you thought of Barbara," the little old lady went on. "You will go with me won't you, dear? I'll make you a duchess. Wouldn't you like to be a duchess, dear?"
Barbara looked from Malone to the little old lady, and then she looked at Dr. Harman. Apparently what she saw failed to make her happy.
"We'll take good care of her, Barbara," Malone said.
She didn't even bother to give him an answer. After a second Boyd said: "Well, I guess that settles it. If you'll let me use your phone, Dr. Harman, I'll call Judge Dunning."