During the next ten sleeping periods an epidemic of small parties broke
out in the human colony. The Sinn Fein Society from its tiny spark had
spread into a conflagration. Apartment F12 was rapidly being converted
into an arsenal as the men hid rocket shells, ray rifles, dum-dums
and dart guns in the basement. Furthermore, twelve bales of green
insulation suits had been added to the one Norman and the Duchess had
stolen.
The Duchess had made good her promise and a steady stream of suits was
being slipped into the hands of the Sinn Feiners. She was ensconced in
the third bedroom of Norman's apartment. Jennifer had not relented.
"When you add any more wenches to your collection," Jennifer replied,
coolly skeptical, "quarter them with the Duchess. I absolutely refuse
to share my room with any of your paramours."
Norman had returned from a meeting of the Sinn Feiners where he had
learned that most of the ships were back already and were being
refitted for the attack on Ganymede. Time pressed. He said:
"Jennifer, I'm going to drive out into the country to try to get a line
on the vegetation. I came back to the apartment to ask you to come
along."
"No," she said perversely. "Why don't you ask Alicia?"
"Alicia?"
"Yes, Alicia, the elevator operator. She's been asking about you."
Norman's ire mounted. "Jennifer," he said wrathfully, "I've been
exceptionally lenient."
"Lenient?" repeated the girl.
"That's right, lenient." He advanced on her threateningly. She backed
off in consternation. "It's not uncommon for disobedient slaves to be
given a sound thrashing, locked up on bread and water."
"You wouldn't dare." The girl compressed her lips.
"Now then," he went on, "are you coming with me peacefully or must I
descend to force?"