Page:World Without Men (HT osu.32435053364535).pdf/24

They sat on a colorless veranda looking out over the twinkling multicolored lights of the city in the fading daylight. They were drinking ambrosia, which, according to the label on the bottle, was ninety proof. Blue gin, Aquilegia called it, and blue it was, with a kind of phosphorescent midsummer blueness.

"Relax," Aquilegia whispered, stroking the bare arm of her companion. Aubretia sank deeper into the soft resilience of her chair, allowing herself to be soothed.

"I'm sure you take your job too seriously," Aquilegia went on. "And if you do that, well, you're putting mortic revenue at too high a level."

"Quilly," breathed Aubretia, "this has nothing to do with mortic revenue. But, God, I'm glad I came to see you tonight. I need something to settle my mind."

For a moment they kissed, a cool lingering kiss. The descending darkness deepened and the city lights gleamed more brightly.

"Quilly," said Aubretia, "I've a problem on my mind. I can't talk about it, yet I feel I need to talk about it. But if I talk then I'm committing an official crime."

"You don't have to tell me unless you want to, darling."

"I know, Quilly. Perhaps in the ordinary way I wouldn't have mentioned it at all, but somebody we both know is concerned. I really don't know what to do . . . which way to turn. . . ."

"Who is concerned?"

"Someone you knew when you worked in the Department of Biophysics."

"Euphorbia?"

"No."

"Criniflora?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Aubretia took her friend's hand and squeezed it warmly.