"You can bet your bottom dollar on it, as the expression goes." Jeanne almost felt like smiling, despite the situation.
"Don't say anything unprintable, then. Tear up your speech. We've got to. See you in two hours." Muttering a brief word or two, Pate left, not bothering to say good-bye to the general.
The general grinned professionally at Jeanne. "Any time I can be of further assistance...."
"Is this seat taken?"
Jeanne looked up from her third cup of coffee, which she'd been stirring nervously. She'd found a small restaurant outside the post's main gate.
"Why, no. Sit down, won't you?" Jeanne smiled at the girl who approached her.
"Th-thanks."
Kind of a plain type, Jeanne decided. Not pretty, though certainly not homely. Nice hair, if you liked it corn-silk color and long. Some men did, she supposed. "Cigarette?"
"I—I don't smoke, thank you. You—you're Jeanne Peterson. I recognized you. My name is Mary."