'Many times.' Almost every day, he reflected caustically.

'Why don't you two get divorced?'

Eric shrugged, a gesture designed to show a deep philosophical nature. He hoped it truly did so.

The gesture evidently fell short, because Jonas said, 'Meaning that you like it?'

'I mean,' he said resignedly, 'that I've been married before and it was no better, and if I divorce Kathy I'll marry again – because as my brainbasher puts it I can't find my identity outside the role of husband and daddy and big butter-and-egg-man wage earner – and the next damn one will be the same because that's the kind I select. It's rooted in my temperament.' He raised his head and eyed Jonas with as good a show of masochistic defiance as he could manage. 'What did you want, Jonas?'

'Trip,' Jonas Ackerman said brightly. 'To Mars, for all of us, including you. Conference! You and I can nab seats a good long way from old Virgil so we won't have to discuss company business and the war effort and Gino Molinari. And since we're taking the big goat it'll be six hours each way. And for God's sake, let's not find ourselves standing up all the way to Mars and back – let's make sure we do get seats.'

'How long will we be there?' He frankly did not look forward to the trip; it would separate him from his work too long.

'We'll undoubtedly be back tomorrow or the day after. Listen; it'll get you out of your wife's path: Kathy's staying here.