Perhaps it was her eyes. Or perhaps it was the tone of her voice. Or
perhaps, and more simply, it was her attitude in general. But whatever
it was, I suddenly felt that, nosy or not, I was being treated shabbily.
"I would like to speak to the Martian lady," I said.
"There isn't any Martian lady."
"There _has_ to be, doesn't there?" I said it with little sharp
prickers on the words.