She flashed him a warm smile, then her eyes widened ever so slightly.
"Your voice! You're the man on the foyer! The one...."
"... the one whom you called copper on," finished Mike agreeably. "But
please don't apologize; you've more than made up for it."
Her smile remained. She evidently liked what she saw. "How was I to know
who you were?"
"It might have been written on my pocket handkerchief," said Mike the
Angel, "but Space Service officers don't carry pocket handkerchiefs."
"What?" The puzzled look had returned.
"Ne' mind," said Mike. "Sit down, won't you?"
"Oh, I can't, thanks. I came to get Fitz; a meeting of the Research
Board has been called, and afterward we have to give a lecture or
something to the officers of the _Brainchild_."
"You mean the _Branchell_?"
Her smile became an impish grin. "You call it what you want. To us, it's
the _Brainchild_."
Dr. Fitzhugh said: "Will you excuse us, Commander? We'll be seeing you
at the briefing later."