Mark had a quick memory of dewdrops in the garden of his
home on Earth when he was a child. He recalled thinking that each
dewdrop held a small sun.
In moments the Starmen were sitting in George St. George's study. He
was a man in his middle-fifties, of average height and weight, with a
full head of wavy blond hair. It was obvious that he cut his own hair,
but long practice had made him skilled at it. Though his eyes were
ice-blue, he exuded warmth. He had a ready smile. The Starmen were
sitting in a makeshift room under a temporary atmosphere dome on an
isolated asteroid, but St. George's courtliness and genuine respect for
his visitors made them feel as if they were in a manor house. On his
desk lay a thick book with the title Commentary on the Letter to the
Romans, and several sheets of paper and a pen were set beside it where
he had obviously been doing some study.
"I hope you men won't mind waiting for refreshments. It's almost
dinnertime and the crew will be coming up for a meal in about half an
hour. Of course, you'll join us, won't you?"
"Thank you Mr. St. George," responded Zip. "We'd be pleased to meet
your men and see your operation."
"Monty tells me you three are real ripstavers, and he doesn't say that
very often about anybody. You must have impressed him!" St.
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