The Duchess had made good her promise and a steady stream of suits was being slipped into the hands of the Sinn Feiners. She was ensconced in the third bedroom of Norman's apartment. Jennifer had not relented.
"When you add any more wenches to your collection," Jennifer replied, coolly skeptical, "quarter them with the Duchess. I absolutely refuse to share my room with any of your paramours."
Norman had returned from a meeting of the Sinn Feiners where he had learned that most of the ships were back already and were being refitted for the attack on Ganymede. Time pressed. He said:
"Jennifer, I'm going to drive out into the country to try to get a line on the vegetation. I came back to the apartment to ask you to come along."
"No," she said perversely. "Why don't you ask Alicia?"
"Alicia?"
"Yes, Alicia, the elevator operator. She's been asking about you."
Norman's ire mounted. "Jennifer," he said wrathfully, "I've been exceptionally lenient."
"Lenient?" repeated the girl.
"That's right, lenient." He advanced on her threateningly. She backed off in consternation. "It's not uncommon for disobedient slaves to be given a sound thrashing, locked up on bread and water."