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onsider trite； but she needed those long rolling phrases； those delicate shadings of strings to ease her tension。 The water enfolded her； she let her body and mind merge with water and music； swimming languidly to the music's rhythm； just enough to counter the gentle current。
Just as she felt herself relaxing； the pool's timer beeped； and Myrtis's voice reminded her that it was time to dress。
〃Bad words； bad words； bad words。〃 She had gotten away with that in childhood； even before she learned any。 Her stomach burned。。。。 If it hadn't been for Ronnie and his gang； she could have had dinner held until she was ready … and she'd have been ready； because she wouldn't have been interrupted。 And her massage lounger wouldn't have been sweaty。 She hauled herself out of the pool with a great splash； hit the privacy control without thinking … and only then realized that with guests aboard she would have to be more careful。 Luckily they were all off dressing … none of them had straggled back to ask a stupid question。 Not that they didn't swim bare； but she had no desire to have them pare her body to their young ones。
She walked into the warmed towelling robe that Myrtis held； and stood still while Myrtis rubbed her hair almost dry。 Then she stepped into the warm fleece slippers； took another warmed towel； and headed for her own suite still rubbing at her damp hair。 It dried faster these days； being thinner； she hated the blow…dryers and would rather go to dinner a bit damp than use one。
In her cabin； Myrtis had laid out her favorite dinner dress； a rich golden…brown shi…silk accented with ivory lace。 Cecelia let herself be dried； oiled； powdered； and helped into the clothes without thinking about it。
Myrtis； unlike Aublice； her first maid； had never seen her young body； she treated Cecelia with professional correctness and the mild affection of someone who has worked for the same employer fifteen years and hopes to retire in the same position。 Cecelia sat； allowed Myrtis to fluff her short hair； with its odd spatchings of red and gray； and fastened on the elaborate necklace of amber and enamelled copper that made the lace look even more delicate。 Those girls might be fifty years younger； but they would know a Marice Limited design when they saw it； and it would have its effect。 They would not know it had been designed for her； by the original Marice； or why … but that didn't matter。
The plump roast fowl sent up a fragrance that made Cecelia's stomach subside from its tension。 She glanced around the table and nodded to Bates。 Service proceeded； a blend of human and robotic。 A human handed her breast slices of roast； and the gravy boat； but crumbs vanished without the need of a crumb…brush。
〃Do you eat like this all the time； Lady Cecelia？〃 asked Bubbles。 Sober； cured of her hangover； she was reasonably pretty； Cecelia thought； except that her gown looked as if it would burst with her next mouthful。 She was not so plump； the gown was that tight。 She wore a warm bright green； it showed off her white skin and blonde curls although it clashed with the dark Raffaele's red dress。
The other girl； Sarah； wore a blue that would have been plain had it not been silk brocade； a design of fishes： d'Albinian work。
〃Yes；〃 said Cecelia。 〃Why not？ Cook is a genius； and I can afford it； so。。。〃
〃Tell us about your new captain。 Why'd you choose a spacefleet officer？〃
〃Why was she available？〃 added the odious George。 Less handsome than Ronnie； which Cecelia might have approved； but he had the sort of gloss she distrusted； as if he'd been coated with varnish。
〃I wasn't satisfied with my former captain's performance；〃 Cecelia said； as if they had a right to ask。 She knew she mellowed with good food； it was one reason she made sure to have it。 She wasn't going to admit that if Captain Olin had held to her schedule； she'd have been safely distant and unavailable when Ronnie was exiled。 Why waste good ammunition？ 〃I wanted more efficiency；〃
she said between bites； making them wait for it。 〃Better leadership。 Before； they were always ing to me plaining about this and that； or getting crossways with staff。 I thought an officer from the Regular Space Service〃 … she made the emphasis very distinct … 〃would know how to maintain discipline and follow my orders。〃
〃The Regs are crazy for discipline；〃 George said； in the tone of someone who found that ridiculous。 〃Remember when Currier transferred； Ronnie？ He didn't last six weeks。 It was all nonsense … it's not as if all that spit and polish and saluting acplishes anything。〃
〃I don't know。。。〃 Buttons； Bunny's middle son； looked surprisingly like his father as he ran a thumb down the side of his nose。 Gesture； decided Cecelia； and not features； he had his mother's narrow beaky nose and her caramel…colored hair。 〃You can't get along with no discipline。。。。〃 And his mother's penchant for taking the other side of any argument； Cecelia told herself。 In the girl； it had been fun to watch； but as Bunny's wife she had caused any number of social ruptures by choosing exactly the wrong moment to point out that not everyone agreed。 The incident of the fish knives still rankled in Cecelia's memory。 She wondered which parent Bubbles took after。
〃We're not talking about no discipline。〃 George interrupted as if he had the right； and Buttons shrugged as if he were used to it。 〃We're talking about the ridiculous iron…fisted excuse for discipline in the Regs。 I don't mind fitness tests and qualifying exams … even with modern techniques； the best family can throw an occasional brainless wonder。〃 Cecelia thought that he himself could furnish proof of that。 〃But；〃 George went on； in blissful ignorance of his hostess' opinion； she being too polite to express it； 〃I really do not see any reason for archaic forms of military courtesy that have no relevance to modem warfare。〃
This time Buttons shrugged without looking up from his food。 He had the blissful expression most of Cecelia's guests wore when they first encountered the products of Cook's genius。 George looked around for another source of conversation； and found the others all engaged in their meal； with the faintest echo of Buttons's shrug； he too began to eat。
The rest of the meal passed in relative silence。 The roast fowl had been followed by a salad of fresh diced vegetables in an iced sauce strongly flavored with parsley： Cecelia's favorite eccentricity； and one which never failed to startle guests。 It awoke； she contended； the sleepy palates which the roast had soothed and satisfied。 Crisp rounds of a distant descendant of potato followed； each centered with a rosette of pureed prawns。 The trick； which no one but her own cook seemed to manage； was to have the slices of potato boiled slightly before roasting； so that the outer surfaces were almost crunchy but the inside mealy。 The young people； she noted； took additional servings of potato as they had of the roast fowl。 Finally； Bates brought in tiny flaky pastries stuffed with finely diced fruit in chocolate and cinnamon sauce。 One each； although Cecelia knew that a few would be waiting for her later； safely hidden from the young people。
Satiety slowed them down； she noticed； nibblin