l. Of course, an outsider might
have been slightly surprised at the sequence of events, but Malone was
no outsider. And, after all, it was the proper way to treat a Queen,
wasn't it?

And--

When Malone had first met Her Majesty, he had wondered why, although
she could obviously read minds, and so knew perfectly well that
neither Malone nor Boyd believed she was Queen Elizabeth I, she
insisted on an outward show of respect and dedication. He'd asked her
about it at last, and her reply had been simple, reasonable and to the
point.

According to her--and Malone didn't doubt it for an instant--most
people simply didn't think their superiors were all they claimed to
be. But they acted as if they did--at least while in the presence of
those superiors. It was a common fiction, a sort of handy oil on the
wheels of social intercourse.

And all Her Majesty had ever insisted on was the same sort of
treatment.

"Bless you," she'd said, "I can't help the way you _think_, but, as
Queen, I do have some control over the way you _act_."

The funny thing, as far as Malone was concerned, was that the two
parts of his personality were becoming more and more alike. He didn't
actually believe that Her Majesty was Queen Elizabeth I, and he hoped
fervently that he never would. But he did have a great deal of respect
for her, and more affection than he had believed possible at first.
She was the grandmother Malone had never known; she was good, and
kind, and he wanted to keep her happy and contented. There had been
nothing at all phony in the solemn toast he had proposed--nor in the
righteous indignation he had felt against anyone who was giving Her
Majesty even a minute's worth of discomfort.

And Boyd, surprisingly enough, seemed to feel the same way. Malone
felt good about that; Her Majesty needed all the loyal supporters she
could get.

But all of this was later. At the time, Malone was doing nothing
except what came naturally--nor, apparently, was Boyd. After the
glasses had been thrown, with a terrifying crash, into the metal
wastebasket, and the reverberations of that second had stopped ringing
in their ears, a moment of silence had followed.

Then Boyd turned, briskly rubbing his hands. "All right," he said.
"Let's get back to work."

Malone looked at the proud, happy look on Her Majesty's face; he saw
the glimmer of a tear in the corner of each eye. But he gave no
indication that he had noticed anything at all out of th