"Glad to hear it," van Alen said. "We've traveled far. We're tired."
"You'll rest well here," the hotelman said, and backed out the door.
"A greasy customer," Kesley commented when he was gone.
"No more so than usual," said van Alen. "They seem to be a breed. He means well, though." The Antarctican shrugged out of his cloak and draped it over a chair. Casually he unfolded the screen, dividing the room in half.
"Economy calls for a single room," he explained. "But privacy is still a fine thing."
Kesley shrugged. He had no intention of violating any of van Alen's personal crotchets. Approaching his own bed, he turned down the sheet, slipped off his clothing, and climbed in.
He discovered he had no desire to sleep. After tossing restlessly for a while, he rolled over on his back and sat up. "Van Alen?"
"What is it, Kesley?"
"How big is Galveston?"
"About a hundred thousand people," van Alen said. "It's a very big city."