At the door to his car Norman paused, said, "I don't even know your name."
"Call me the Duchess," she laughed.
"I'm Saint Clair, Norman Saint Clair."
Norman got behind the wheel. The Duchess stimulated him. She was a little earthy perhaps, but clever. He wondered uncomfortably just how he would explain her to Jennifer, decided not to cross that bridge until he got there.
At the Duchess's direction, he parked the car in an alley behind the warehouse where the protective green suits were stored.
"This is it," said the girl.
Norman got out, surveyed the massive stone structure. The windows were barred like a jail. On the roof he could make out the edges of shrubbery.
"It looks like there's a roof garden up there," he commented.
"There is," replied the Duchess. "The quarters of the men who work for the Venusian Export Lines are on the top floors of the warehouse."