`Why choose me?'
The argument went off into the realms of high finance. At the next-door table there was not even this amount of animation. Scaramanga was a man of few words. There were clearly none available for social occasions. Opposite him, Mr. Hendriks exuded a silence as thick as Gouda cheese. The three hoods addressed an occasional glum sentence to anyone who would listen. James Bond wondered how Scaramanga was going to electrify this unpromising company into "having a good time."
She jumped to her feet. "Oh, of course you're right," she said impatiently. "It's just that I want to do something about it in a hurry." She looked for a moment out to sea, away from Bond. "You've only just come into the picture. I've been living with this rocket for more than a year and I can't bear the idea that something may happen to it. So much seems to depend on it. For all of us. I want to get back there quickly and to find out who wanted to kill us. It may be nothing to do with the Moonraker, but I want to make sure."
'I thought her looking as she always does: superior, in all respects, to everyone around her,' I returned.
They were two state troopers, smart and young and very nice. I'd almost forgotten such people existed. They saluted me as if I was royalty. "Miss Vivienne Michel?" The senior, a lieutenant, did the talking while his Number Two muttered quietly into his radio, announcing their arrival.
“No! so it is really serious!” cried Frances. Julia too, commenced a sort of sigh, but, as soon as she was aware that she had done so, she closed her lips, that the breath might descend without sound. Edmund, on whom, as we have just observed, she was leaning, felt the slight movement, and was strangely gratified; not that he presumed to assign any cause to the sigh.