o the city."

"That," she smiled happily, "would be so wonderful, Mr. Newman. I've
never been in a home like that." Then, choking with emotion, she turned
and hurried away.

* * *

When he reached home and told Rhoda what had happened, his wife was not
in the least bit moved. "I'll never let that girl in my house," she said
through thin lips. "A classless nothing! I'm going to keep my pride
while I can."

There was some sense to her viewpoint but, he felt uncertainly, not
enough for him to remain silent. "We have to adjust, darling, can't go
on thinking we're what we're not."

"Why can't we?" she exploded. "I couldn't even order food today. Max had
to go to the AutoMart and pick it up!"

"What are you trying to say?"

"That _you_ made this mess!"

For a while he listened, dully unresponsive, but eventually the
vituperation became too bitter and he came back at her with equal vigor.
Until, weeping, she rushed upstairs once more.

That was the first of many arguments. Anything could bring them on,
instructions for Max that she chose to consider erroneous, a biting
statement from him that she was deliberately making herself physically
unattractive. More and more Rhoda took to going into the city while he
killed time making crude, tentative adjustments on Max. What the devil,
he occasionally wondered, could she be doing there?

But most of the time he did not bother about it; he had found a
consolation of his own. At first it had been impossible to make the
slightest changes in Max, even those that permitted the robot to remain
conscious and give advice. Again and again his mind strained toward
Central until the icy-edged truth cut into his brain--there was no line.

Out of boredom, though, he plugged away, walked past the
disdainfully-staring eyes of neighbors to the village library, and
withdrew dusty microfiles on robotry. Eventually he had acquired a
little skill at contemplating what, essentially, remained a mystery to
his easily-tired mind. It was not completely satisfactory but it would
be enough to get him a better-than-average menial job when he had
finally accepted his new condition.

At long last a letter came from Ted on Mars. It said:

Guilty by association, that's what I am! When it first happened I
was furious with the two of you but resignation has its own
consolations and I've given up the ranting. Of course, I've lost my
job and my new one will keep me fr