"I don't want to see her here tomorrow night."
"You're impossible. You're getting to be an ... ogre."
"In the office too," Channing said. "But I won't stand for it at home, understand?"
"Don't make a scene in front of the child."
"I'm not making a scene. She's no child."
"We'll talk about it later."
"Then talk to Stephanie," said Channing. "I'm going out."
"Goodbye. Don't slam the door."
They were behaving irrationally, Channing realized as he went for a spin in the copter, clearing the suburban traffic lanes and heading west toward the city. He was as much to blame as Ellen, but he couldn't let this thing get the better of him at home. If only he could explain to the Targoffian Ambassador that his business enterprises were playing hob with the socio-economic set-up on Earth not to mention Channing's own marital life. The thing that hurt almost as much as Channing's own troubles was the Denebian Ambassador. He could picture the saurian face gloating.