"You said you could handle it. I thought you could."
"I'll try," he said wearily. "Oh, I'll try." He went out, dragging his feet, his shoulders down, without looking at her.
There was a stiff silence. Marcia looked up at Miss Eagen. "It's true, you know," she said. "A man grows to love the things he has to defend, no matter how he felt about them before."
The stewardess looked at her, her face registering a strange mixture of detachment and wonder. "You really believe that, don't you?"
Marcia's patience, snapped. "You don't have to look so superior. I know what's bothering you. Well, he's my husband, and don't you forget it."
Miss Eagen's breath hissed in. Her eyes grew bright and she shook her head slightly. Then she turned on her heel and went to the intercom. Marcia thought for a frightened moment that she was going to call Jack back again. Instead she dialed and said, "Hospital to Maintenance. Petrucelli?"
"Petrucelli here."
"Come up with a crescent wrench, will you, Pet?"
Another stiff silence. A question curled into Marcia's mind and she asked it. "Do you work on all these ships at one time or another?"