I gaped at her like a swamp-guppy until it seeped through my skull that she was in dead earnest.
"Wait up," I said. "What about Perry Acree?"
She snapped her fingers. "That for Perry. I thought I wanted the little creep until you brought him back, but after that I couldn't bear the sight of him."
"You mean," I said, grasping at any straw, "that you really want to be—"
"Married," she said definitely. "First and firmly, or no Phobos trips!"
"It wouldn't last," I argued. "Being an A-belt prospector's wife is no snap, Cheryl. I'd be out in the Annabelle for weeks on end, slamming around in God knows what kind of dangers. And one of these days I wouldn't come back at all and you'd be a widow."
"You wouldn't be slamming around," she corrected me softly. "We would, Willie dear. I'd be with you every minute."
That did it. It was "Willie dear" already, and she'd be with me every minute. Even in port....
"I'll have to give this some serious thought," I said. "Look, you wouldn't want us to plunge into a deal that wouldn't work out, would you?"
"Of course not," she said with a demure certainty that made my blood curdle. "But this will work, Willie darling. I'll see to that."