"You're right," Doret said to James Erg, who stood beside him. "Quite a pleasant, well-modulated voice. Certainly far more human-sounding than the other models."
"Try him on emotion," Erg suggested.
Doret thought a moment. "I'm not sure I'm entirely pleased with you, Toory," he said.
"I do not understand why," Toory murmured, contritely. "But I am sorry."
"You will find several emotion-gradations like that," Erg said.
"I see. Yes, it's a very impressive model, Erg—far in advance of your others." Doret smiled thoughtfully. He was a small man, bulging about the middle, with a rosy, pleasant face. "I guess he's worth the price, Erg."
The skin around the blue eyes crinkled with tiny traceries of white lines and Toory suddenly felt glad that Robert Doret might purchase him. It was like the glow he experienced when he understood a task, and accomplished it perfectly.
The next day Toory learned that the sale had been made. He was to serve in Doret's country home, up in the hills north of the city. Toory needed no specialized training for that. But he learned that there was to be intensive, new-task instruction for a month to prepare him for his duties as a domestic helper for Babs Doret, the purchaser's daughter, for whom he had been bought.
She came with her father the next day—a small, brown-haired girl in a trim blue suit. Toory learned afterward that she was eighteen years old.
"This is Miss Babs, Toory," Erg explained. "You'll have to learn her voice well, and be quick to obey. Speak to her now."