At dawn tomorrow I start out on Betty, with another saddle mule following. Or 'beasts. the chances of a healthy baby from a brother-sister mating were higher than the chances of a defective. Minerva squeezed his hand, blushed slightly, and said nothing.
Their speech, customs, buildings, you name it-were frozen. Somewhere quiet. I am even a gene surgeon now, in theory, and would not hesitate to be one in practice once I had time to construct the ultramicrominiature waldoes needed for such fine work. And thanks, Galahad, but I'll pick up the tab-although it may be a family party right, here, where Ira won't feel like, a duck in a shooting gallery.
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