I was just as glad Ginger had decided Harry was for her, if either of us had to be. I had too much to think about. Such as Jason Woods Stevenson and Spaceman's magazine. Such as what a Wompan could or could not be expected to do when hunted. Such as our last chance to make good here on Venus. Let Harry have the lovelife, I'd try to keep Venus on the Half Shell solvent.
That night after supper Mr. Stevenson and Ginger turned in early in preparation for our first sally the next day. Harry gaped and gazed and wandered around the stockade, moonstruck.
"Hey, snap out it," I said.
"Lovely girl," he said.
"Lovely old man in charge of the outdoor section of Spaceman's magazine," I said.
"Got a smile could melt the night side of Pluto."
"Wompan," I said. "Remember?"
"You can handle it, Gil old boy."
"I don't know if both of us, working together as hard as we ever worked in our lives, can handle it. But we have to try. We have to be on our toes, Harry. Are you with me?"