"Will you come with me—to Antarctica?"
"I'm not that crazy," Kesley said. He laughed. "You want me to drop everything—the farm, my whole life, just to go off with you to—to Antarctica?"
"This is not your life," van Alen said. "Antarctica is. Will you come?"
Kesley laughed contemptuously, but said nothing.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come on," he said roughly. "Enter."
Tina came in and looked defiantly at both of them. She was a tall, red-haired girl in her late twenties, wide-shouldered and high-bosomed, and her eyes held the flash and fire that must have belonged to old Lester once. She and Kesley had been sharing a room for six months.
"Still talking?" Tina asked.
"Is there anything special you want?" Kesley snapped.
"Just wanted to tell you lunch is getting cold, that's all. And you left your plough standing in the field. That crazy mutie horse of yours looks like it's asleep on its feet."