us. The old thing about money again," Rhoda
parried.

"There's nothing old about money. The problem is ever new. It's always
with us."

Rhoda Kane wanted to cry. She sat on the floor beside the sofa on which
Frank Corson lay, his hands behind his head, his eyes staring up at the
ceiling. She wanted to say, _Darling, what's happened to me? What is
this thing inside me that keeps blocking me away from you? Why can't I
tell you about it?_

But she could not say this. She could only push the tears back and lay
her head seductively on his chest. "You're just tired, dear. You've been
working too hard."

He ran his hand petulantly through her hair. "It isn't me. It's you,
Rhoda. Half the time you don't even realize I'm talking to you. You're
getting such a faraway look in your eyes I'm beginning to think there's
another man."

"That's silly," she said lightly. "Let me make you a drink."

"I don't want a drink."

The way he responded to her kiss indicated he didn't want to make love,
either. Rhoda settled back to the floor and said, "Darling--"

Suddenly she couldn't go on. Somewhere inside, a dam broke; the strange,
bewildering block tottered and began to fall. "Darling--there's
something I want to tell you--"

Frank Corson indicated with a jerk of his head. "The phone's ringing."

"Let it ring. Darling, I--"

"For heaven's sake, answer it, Rhoda. It might be important."

She got up, went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello."

"This is John Dennis."

She felt that frightening excitement again--that feeling of dangerous
delight at something forbidden. "Yes?"

"Do you remember what I told you to do?"

"Yes."

"Has it been done?"

"Not yet."

"Why have you not done it?"

"I haven't had a chance."

"You have a chance now. Frank Corson is in your home."

"Yes. I have a chance now."

The phone clicked. Rhoda put it down and went back to the sofa. As she
sank to the floor, Frank Corson looked at her questioningly.

"That was certainly a cryptic conversation."

When Rhoda didn't answer, he scowled and snapped, "There you go again.
Into the brown study."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear."

"What was the phone call about?"

"My hairdresser. It was nothing."

"Weird conversation to have with a hairdresser."

"He's a weird hairdresser."

"What had you started to say when the phone rang?"

"It just occurred to me--you never told me what happened when that
government man talked to you."

Frank wished sh