Abstract
"I still hate this," Trevor said. "That you‚re doing this to Becky." • “So you‚ve told me,• I said wearily. "Many times." • We sat in the clinic waiting room, done in Martian rust reds, very trendy for such an illegal operation. But, then, this was very upscale illegality. Trevor, who had so much money he never thought about it, hadn‚t asked how I was paying for Becky‚s surgery, and I hadn‚t volunteered that I'd cashed in my retirement fund at Payne, Jeffers. We'd been waiting on the rust-red conformachairs, which were not as comfortable as advertised, for nearly an hour. •
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