and delicate, felt like a slab of lead when it
slammed into his cheek. She left a bruise five fingers wide, and then
turned and stalked out.

* * * * *

He ran after her, the restaurant proprietor shouting about the unpaid
bill. It took a rapid dog-trot to reach her side.

"Greta, listen!" he panted. "You don't understand about last night. It
wasn't the way that lousy columnist said--"

She stopped in her tracks.

"I wouldn't have minded so much if you'd gotten me drunk. But to _use_
me, just to get a story--"

"But I'm a _reporter_, damn it. It's my job. I'd do it again if I
thought you knew anything."

She was pouting now. "Well, how do you suppose I feel, knowing you're
only interested in me because of the Senator? Anyway, I'll probably lose
my job, and then you won't have _any_ use for me."

"Good-bye, Greta," Jerry said sadly.

"What?"

"Good-bye. I suppose you won't want to see me any more."

"Did I say that?"

"It just won't be any use. We'll always have this thing between us."

She looked at him for a moment, and then touched his bruised cheek with
a tender, motherly gesture.

"Your poor face," she murmured, and then sighed. "Oh, well. I guess
there's no use fighting it. Maybe if I _did_ tell you what I know, we
could act _human_ again."

"Greta!"

"But if you print one _word_ of it, Jerry Bridges, I'll never speak to
you again!"

"Honey," Jerry said, taking her arm, "you can trust me like a brother."

"That's _not_ the idea," Greta said stiffly.

In a secluded booth at the rear of a restaurant unfrequented by newsmen,
Greta leaned forward and said:

"At first, they thought it was another sputnik."

"_Who_ did?"

"The State Department, silly. They got reports from the observatories
about another sputnik being launched by the Russians. Only the Russians
denied it. Then there were joint meetings, and nobody could figure out
_what_ the damn thing was."

"Wait a minute," Jerry said dizzily. "You mean to tell me there's
another of those metal moons up there?"

"But it's not a moon. That's the big point. It's a spaceship."

"A _what_?"

"A spaceship," Greta said coolly, sipping lemonade. "They have been in
contact with it now for about three days, and they're thinking of
calling a plenary session of the UN just to figure out what to do about
it. The only hitch is, Russia doesn't want to wait that long, and is
asking for a hurry-up summit meeting to mak