on two guard rails while the police copter
settled down to pick up Halgersen. He signaled Nedda to move on along
the walkway.

While the onlookers were clapping approval of the show, he removed
Halgersen's plaque, leaped down and dodged an attempted kiss from the
girl who had given odds on him--glancing back warily in case her escort
felt insulted--then pushed through the mob to join Nedda.

She hugged his arm ecstatically. "Darling, every woman should have a guy
like you."

"Yeah." He felt no sense of triumph. It had happened too many times
before. Everything had happened too many times before--repetitive,
palling and purposeless. He tucked the won plaque into her decorative
belt. It was Nedda's proof that protection was ended, and Halgersen
would have to call for it accompanied by a witness.

"Where the hell is your place?" he asked. For a moment he wondered why
he didn't just turn abruptly and leave her, social mores
notwithstanding. Then Nedda's perfume began its chemical magic again,
and he carefully straightened his jacket and set his forelock in its
proper place.

* * * * *

"Nedda," he accused lazily, "you're a nymph. Ever tried
psychoconditioning?"

She gave him a tender, lingering kiss and burrowed more comfortably in
his arms. "Not yet, darling. Would you prefer me less--responsive?"

Allen patted her as carefully as possible to show approval without
arousing her again. "No man would. But it must be rough between dates,
isn't it?" And just why should he be worrying about anyone else at this
stage of the game? Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just curious now that
it no longer mattered.

She avoided his eyes in the cool semigloom of the compartment.
"I--usually manage to have enough dates. Until some moron like
Neal-Hayne puts me under protection."

He disengaged himself gently, rolled off the pliant couch and increased
the room's light with the wall knob. "You should register a complaint,
Nedda. After three he'll be forcibly psyched, you know." He dialed the
servoconsole and focused a morning meal menu on the viewscreen. "Ready
for breakfast, pip?"

"Mmm--if you are." Nedda came over and lifted the phone from its panel
recess. "That number six algal protein is supposed to be a new taste
sensation. Like?"

He shrugged. "Let's try it. It'll be my last go at this robot feed."

When the meals had been deposited in the service chute she looked at him
pleadingly. "Hon,