n her face and it stayed there, and then, very carefully, she
got down from the bar stool with her knitting. She looked at the
half-finished pink bra with the long white needles stuck in it and her
eyes bugged bigger yet, as if she were expecting it to turn into a baby
sweater right then and there. Then she walked across the Place to Lili
and stood beside her. While she was walking, the look of surprise
changed to a quiet smile. The only other thing she did was throw her
shoulders back a little.

I was jealous of her for a second, but it was a double miracle for her,
considering her age, and I couldn't grudge her that. And to tell the
truth, I was a little frightened, too. Even with Dave, I'd been bothered
about this business of having babies.

* * * * *

Yet I stood up with Siddy--I couldn't stop myself and I guess he
couldn't either--and hand in hand we walked to the control divan. Beau
and Sevensee were there and Bruce, of course, and then, so help me,
those Soldiers to the death, Kaby and Mark, started over from the bar
and I couldn't see anything in their eyes about the greater glory of
Crete and Rome, but something, I think, about each other, and after a
moment Illy slowly detached himself from the piano and followed, lightly
trailing his tentacles on the floor.

I couldn't exactly see him hoping for little Illies in this company,
unless it was true what the jokes said about Lunans, but maybe he was
being really disinterested and maybe he wasn't; maybe he was simply
figuring that Illy ought to be on the side with the biggest battalions.

I heard dragging footsteps behind us and here came Doc from the Gallery,
carrying in his folded arms an abstract sculpture as big as a newborn
baby. It was an agglomeration of perfect shiny gray spheres the size of
golf balls, shaping up to something like a large brain, but with holes
showing through here and there. He held it out to us like an infant to
be admired and worked his lips and tongue as if he were trying very hard
to say something, though not a word came out that you could understand,
and I thought, "Maxey Aleksevich may be speechless drunk and have all
sorts of holes in his head, but he's got the right instincts, bless his
soulful little Russian heart."

We were all crowded around the control divan like a football team
huddling. The Peace Packers, it came to me. Sevensee would be fullback
or center and Illy left end--what a receive