does. Would it be helpful to know
that I first asked, then ordered her to trade places with me?"

"It would, very. I know why she refused. You're a _damned_ good man,
Alex."

"Thanks, Jarve. To answer the question you were going to ask next--no, I
will not be at all perturbed or put out if you put her onto a job that
some people might think should have been mine. What's the job, and
when?"

"That's the devil of it--I don't know." Hilton brought Kincaid up to
date. "So you see, it'll have to develop, and God only knows what line
it will take. My thought is that Temple and I should form a Committee of
Two to watch it develop."

"That one I'll buy, and I'll look on with glee."

"Thanks, fellow." Hilton went down to his office, stuck his big feet up
onto his desk, settled back onto his spine, and buried himself in
thought.

Hours later he got up, shrugged, and went to bed without bothering to
eat.

Days passed.

And weeks.

IV

"Look," said Stella Wing to Beverly Bell. "Over there."

"I've seen it before. It's simply disgusting."

"_That's_ a laugh." Stella's tawny-brown eyes twinkled. "You made your
bombing runs on that target, too, my sweet, and didn't score any higher
than I did."

"I soon found out I didn't want him--much too stiff and serious. Frank's
a lot more fun."

The staff had gathered in the lounge, as had become the custom, to spend
an hour or so before bedtime in reading, conversation, dancing, light
flirtation and even lighter drinking. Most of the girls, and many of the
men, drank only soft drinks. Hilton took one drink per day of
avignognac, a fine old brandy. So did de Vaux--the two usually making a
ceremony of it.

Across the room from Stella and Beverly, Temple Bells was looking up at
Hilton and laughing. She took his elbow and, in the gesture now familiar
to all, pressed his arm quickly, but in no sense furtively, against her
side. And he, equally openly, held her forearm for a moment in the full
grasp of his hand.

"And he _isn't_ a pawer," Stella said, thoughtfully. "He never touches
any of the rest of us. She _taught_ him to do that, damn her, without
him ever knowing anything about it ... and I wish I knew how she did
it."

"That isn't pawing," Beverly laughed lightly. "It's simply self-defense.
If he didn't fend her off, God knows what she'd do. I still say it's
disgusting. And the way she dances with him! She ought to be ashamed of
herself. He ought to fire her."