Martha made her parrot mouth. "You should have sent a man!" She chomped the last word off short. Paula and Monica nodded vigorously.
Mr. Cherkassov stroked his briefcase. "Moondog's mistress wished greatly to go. One might say moondog saved her mistress' life. Is not that a value to you?"
Martha stared. "Did you dare think of sending a poor weak woman to the ... to the moon?"
"Russian women are coarse and strong," Mr. Cherkassov said soothingly. "A large number of them, among the scientists, did volunteer."
Martha sat bolt upright and made her parrot beak again. Her fat cheeks flushed under the powder.
"No!" she snapped. "I see where you're trying to lead me and I won't go! You should have sent the hussy! It is immoral to sacrifice a loving little dog just for a careless whim."
Her two aides gazed admiringly at their chieftainess. "Think of it, just for a whim!" Paula echoed.
Mr. Cherkassov's fingers traced an aimless, intricate pattern on the briefcase and he crossed his ankles.
"All dogs are not loving in the same way, madame. Tell me, how do you know when a dog loves you?"