n one day, when Pascal neglected to shut off the garden
hose, she caught herself scolding him as if he were human. Was that a
shadow from the curtain waving in the breeze, or did she see a hurt look
flit across the mouth of the pumpkin? Corinne put out her hand and
patted Pascal's cylindrical wrist.

It was warm--_flesh_ warm.

She hurried upstairs and stood breathing heavily with her back to the
door. A little later she thought she heard someone--someone with a heavy
step--moving around downstairs.

"I left the control box down there," she thought. "Of course, it's
absurd...."

At four o'clock she went slowly down the stairs to start Ronald's
dinner. Pascal was standing by the refrigerator, exactly where she had
left him. Not until she had started to peel the potatoes did she notice
the little bouquet of pansies in the center of the table.

Corinne felt she needed a strong cup of tea. She put the water on and
placed a cup on the kitchen table. Not until she was going to sit down
did she decide that perhaps Pascal should be in the other room.

She pressed the red button, the one which should turn him around, and
the blue button, which should make him walk into the living room. She
heard the little buzz of mechanical life as Pascal began to move. But he
did not go into the other room! He was holding a chair for her, and she
sat down rather heavily. A sudden rush of pleasure reddened her cheeks.
_Not since sorority days ..._

Before Pascal's arms moved away she touched his wrist again, softly,
only this time her hand lingered. And his wrist _was_ warm!

* * * * *

"When do they want Pascal back at the lab?" she asked Ronald at dinner
that evening, trying to keep her voice casual.

Ronald smiled. "I think I might have him indefinitely, dear. I've got
Hardwick convinced I'm working on something revolutionary." He stopped.
"Oh, Corinne! You've spilled coffee all over yourself."

The following night Ronald was late in getting home from work. It was
raining outside the Newark station and the cabs deliberately evaded him.
He finally caught a bus, which deposited him one block from his house.
He cut through the back alley, hurrying through the rain. Just before he
started up the stairs he glanced through the lighted kitchen window. He
stopped, gripping the railing for support.

In the living room were Pascal and Corinne. Pascal was reclining
leisurely in the fireside chair; Corinne wa