hy" samples were relatively clear,
except for minute protein matter. Conversely, all twelve suspect
specimens swarmed with shadowy six-sided dots.

Phyllis' eyes widened. "There is something there! Do you suppose it
could be the Love Bug?"

"Love Bug?"

"Certainly. That bulletin didn't go into the psychologists' findings.
The diagnosticians downstairs say that the symptoms appear to be no more
than complaints of the lovesick."

"Are you back on the pantie-raid theme again?"

"I've never been off it," she replied. "From the first, I've had a
notion that some organism was increasing glandular activity. Excess
emotionalism often originates in overstimulated glands."

"Of course, but mental attitudes can trigger the glands, and they are
interacting. How do you separate the effects? How could you guess that
an organism was responsible?"

She shrugged. "It was a possibility within our specialty, so I set out
to prove or disprove it. From the appearance of these photographs, I
don't think we have _disproved_ it."

It was a properly cautious statement that pleased Murt. They were a long
way from proving that their newly discovered virus was the culprit, but
the research had definitely produced a question mark.

Murt ordered copies of the photomicrographs from Ebert Industrial Labs
and arranged for a complete dossier to be forwarded to the U. S. Health
Service.

That night, he was startled by a headline and lead story that quoted the
government bulletin. The science editor had a field day, tying in
speculation that "Doctors Suspect Love Bug Epidemic."

* * * * *

The next day, three reporters called upon him, each with the same query.
"It's rumored that you are doing research on the Love Bug, Dr. Murt.
Anything to report?"

He shooed them out angrily, after learning that someone at Ebert Labs
had given them the tip. Phyllis smiled at him as he slammed the door
after the last reporter.

"You still discount the Love Bug idea, don't you?" she asked.

"I dislike sensationalism in a matter like this," he said. "Even if
their assumptions were true, I wouldn't like it."

"You can't blame the papers. They're starved for some explanation. I
pity your passion for anonymity if your virus proves to be the causative
factor."

"_My_ virus?"

"Certainly. The whole project is under your auspices and direction."

"See here, Phyl, _you_ did the work."

"Don't you dare mention my name," she