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He knew her too well not to become suspicious if it looked as if she were just sitting there and taking it. She got her secretary on the ComWeb. "I'm thinking of leaving the office," she said. "Anything for me to take care of first?" It was a safe question. She'd signed the day's mail and checks before lunch. "Not a thing, Miss Farn." "Fine," said Ruya Farn.
"We were wondering, Miss Farn," Rak said questioningly, "whether you have the authority to requisition additional University League guards for the Plasmoid Project?" Trigger shook her head. "I've got no authority of any kind that I know of, as far as the League is concerned. No doubt Professor Mantelish could arrange it for you." Rak nodded. "Is it possible for you to contact Professor Mantelish?"
I even let him talk me into doing it under the assumed name of Ruya Farn and" she reached up and touched the side of her head "and to dye my hair. For no sane reason that I could discover! He said the U-League had requested it." Doctor Plemponi coughed. "Well, you know, Trigger, how sensitive the League is to personal notoriety." The eyebrow went up again. "Notoriety?" "Not in the wrong sense!"
The best piece of Macintyre is an ode to Ben Dourain, or the Hill of the Water-dogs a mountain in the Highlands. The master-piece of Buchanan is his La Breitheanas or Day of Judgment, which is equal in merit, or nearly so, to the Cywydd y Farn, or Judgment Day of your own immortal Gronwy Owen.
"I have," I replied, "and yesterday I visited his birth-place; so you have heard of Gronwy Owen?" "Heard of him, your honour; yes, and read his works. That 'Cowydd y Farn' of his is a wonderful poem."
It seems possible that Doctor Fayle's failure to appear indicates that League Headquarters does not consider the project a sufficiently safe place for 112-113." "Why don't you ask Headquarters?" Trigger suggested. They stirred nervously. "That would be a violation of the Principle of the Chain of Command, Miss Farn!" Rak explained. "Oh," she said. The Juniors were overdisciplined, all right.
Amongst the "rude forefathers of the hamlet" sleeps Dean Church, who held the rectory for nineteen years before his promotion to the Deanery of St Paul's. His grave is near the S. wall of the chancel. Observe the small ecclesiastical window in the farn at the back of the church. Wheathill, 5 m. S.W. from Castle Cary. The small church has been much restored.
Your section of the project is supposed to be raidproof anyway." Rak glanced at his companions again and apparently received some undetectable sign of consent. "Miss Farn, as you know, our group has been entrusted with the care of two League plasmoids here.
A whale-sized replica of a Harvester dominated one end of the Hall, a giant dark-green sausage in external appearance, though with some extremely fancy internal arrangements. "Miss Farn...." She turned. A League cop, standing at the entrance of a hallway thirty feet away, pitched her the old flourish and followed it up with a bow. Excellent manners these guard boys had! Trigger gave him a smile.
"No," Trigger said. She smiled. "Is it possible for you to contact him?" Rak glanced around his committee as if looking for approval, then said, "No, it isn't. As a matter of fact, Miss Farn, we've been isolated here in the most curious fashion for the past few weeks." "So have I," said Miss Farn. Rak looked startled. "Oh!" he said.
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