"It's a hell of a thing," raved the other, "when a man can't even use words to express himself without paying...."
In alarm, Jeb leaned forward and hastily punched a combination of buttons on the televisor. One half the screen blanked. The image of the Marriage Relations representative moved to the right and the lean, puritanical face of Jeb's supervisor, Dirdon, flared onto the left half.
Dirdon looked icily at Jeb. "What is it?"
"Complaint on policy and purpose of Copyright Law," said Jeb nervously. "Would you please handle it, sir? I'll switch you."
As Dirdon's mouth pressed into a thin line and he nodded, Jeb flicked a switch. Both men on the screen immediately turned profiles to Jeb and Laurie, seeing each other in their own screens.
"Did you have a complaint, sir?" asked Dirdon.
"I don't know who the devil you are," shouted the man from Marriage Relations, "but I assume you're one of those pirates cashing in on that copyright swindle. That new law has gone much too far. Copyrighting a work of skill, art, or expression is okay, I suppose, but to extend it to everyday speech, to verbal phrases—"
"Now just a minute," said Dirdon briskly. "You buy greeting cards, I suppose, sir?"
"So I buy greeting cards, so what?"