Kit sighed. “Look, can we just declare a truce for about fifteen minutes?”
She eyed him narrowly, then shrugged. “Sure.” She tossed her head slightly to bounce feathers out of her eyes.
Kit started to say, “That hat’s on backwards,” then bit his tongue. He didn’t want to antagonize her. He wanted to save her life. So he suggested, “Let’s go over to the library. It’s quiet. We shouldn’t be interrupted.”
Margo eyed him curiously. “Why are you taking the trouble? I thought you hated me.”
”Hated you? I don’t hate anybody, Margo. Time scouts can’t afford the luxury of hate.”
Or love …
Margo’s eyes had gone curiously wide and vulnerable. “Oh. Well, I’m glad.”
Kit recalled what Connie had said-”she worships you” and sighed. He wasn’t cut out to be anybody’s personal hero.
”Come on, Margo. The sooner I get this said, the sooner you can tell me where to jump off, then we can both call it quits.” He eyed her unhappily. “And contrary to what you clearly believe, I don’t enjoy hurting people’s feelings.”
For once, she didn’t come back with a sharp remark. She just followed him wordlessly toward the library.
Margo knew time terminals had libraries. Tourists, guides, and time scouts all used them, to one degree or another. Her original legwork had revealed that time terminal libraries were among the most sophisticated research facilities in the world. But Skeeter Jackson hadn’t suggested they go there and she hadn’t given it much thought. Margo had never been fond of books. She preferred direct, dramatic action and firsthand experience. Poring through dusty, musty pages nobody had cracked open in fifty years only made her crazy. Besides, all those experts disagreed anyway, and a time scout’s job was to go places and find out what the truth was.