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. "Dr.
Schultz, this doesn't make a picture big enough for a passport, I know-but could
it be blown up for the purpose?"
"It certainly could be. Mmm, that's an impressive camera."
"I like it. I once worked for the-an agency that used such cameras. When I
resigned, I found I had mislaid it... and had to pay for it." She grinned
mischievously. "Later I found it- it had been in my purse all along... but 'way
down in the bottom lost in the junk." She added, "I'll run get a picture of
Bill."
I said hastily, "Use a neutral background."
"Think I was a-hint the door? 'Scuse, please. Back in a second."
She was back in a few minutes; the picture was coming up.
A minute later it was sharp; she passed it to Dr. Schultz. "Will that do?"
"Excellent! But what is that background? May I ask?" "A bar towel. Frankie
and Juanita stretched it tight behind Bill's head."
"'Frankie and Juanita,'" I repeated. "Who are they?" "The head bartender
and the manager. Nice people." "Gwen, I didn't know you were acquainted here.
That could cause problems."
"I'm not acquainted here; I've never been here before, dear. I've been in
the habit of patronizing The Chuck Wagon in Lazy Eight Spread at radius
ninety-they have square dancing." Gwen looked up, squinting against the sunlight
directly overhead-the habitat, in its stately spin, was just swinging through
the arc that placed the Sun at zenith for Old MacDonald's Farm
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