etious remark she had made
in his presence. To this moment, he had held an increasing regard for
her quiet efficiency, sobriety, professional dignity and decorum. True,
she wore her white coat more tightly belted than was necessary and,
likewise, she refused to wear the very low hospital heels that thickened
feminine ankles. But she wore a minimum of come-hither in both her
cosmetic and personality makeup. This startling remark, then, was most
unexpected.

"Pantie raids?" he inquired. "Whatever would justify an inquiry into
such a patently behavioristic problem?"

"The epidemic nature and its increasing virulence," she replied soberly.
"This spring, the thing has gotten out of hand, according to this
editorial. A harmless tradition at a few of the more uninhibited
campuses has turned into a national collegiate phenomenon. And now
secondary effects are turning up. Instructors say that intramural
romance is turning the halls of ivy into amatory rendezvous."

Murt sipped his coffee and said, "Be thankful you aren't a psychiatrist.
Bacterial mutations are enough of a problem, without pondering
unpredictable emotional disturbances."

His assistant pursued it further. "It says the classrooms are emptying
into the marriage bureaus, and graduation exercises this year will be a
mockery if something isn't done. What's more, statistics show a
startling increase in marriages at the high school level."

Murt shrugged broad shoulders that were slightly bent from long hours
over a microscope. "Then be thankful you aren't an overworked
obstetrician," he offered as an amendment.

She glanced up from the paper, with annoyance showing in her dark,
well-spaced eyes. "Is it of no interest to you that several hundred
thousand youngsters are leaving high school and college prematurely
because they can't control their glands?"

"Be glad, then," Murt said coldly, "that you aren't an
endocrinologist--now drink your coffee. I hear the microtome working.
We'll have some business in a minute."

Dr. Phyllis Sutton rustled the pages of the _Times_ together, folded it
up and threw it at the wastebasket with more vigor than was necessary.
The subject was momentarily closed.

* * * * *

His staff position at High Dawn paid less, but the life suited Dr. Murt
better than the hectic, though lucrative, private practices of many of
his colleagues. He arrived at the hospital early, seven o'clock each
day, to be on h