The robot served something like lobster, and something like grouse, and a roast which might have been venison. It served vegetables in pink, pear-like clusters and long, golden pods. It served a crisp, succulent salad.
Charles picked at his food, watching Betty with growing uneasiness. First, her appetite seemed to improve. Then her eyes started to sparkle, and the severe little corners of her mouth began to relax. Leaning forward intently, she became more and more absorbed in the captain.
"—and so here I've been ever since," he said, as he finished his salad, "and Sugar Plum's just about perfect. Of course, it gets lonely at times, but—"
Abruptly, Betty's hand darted out, grabbed the captain's beard.
"Beaver!" she shouted, laughing and pulling. Then she settled back, blushing. "I've wanted to do that for years."
Charles reeled. Here was a crisis! He started to rise; hesitated. Of course, he was shocked to the core, but, "Great Scott, she's pretty!" he thought; and at once he felt guilty.
He stood up, trying hard to look angry.
"Elizabeth," he announced, "you will leave this room—er—instantly."
"Why?" giggled Betty.
"Because ladies do not pull gentlemen's beards."