. I'd
much prefer it to be changed back to the February date."

"Well, now." Pause. "Dan, we _have_ to settle these things sooner or
later, you know. I don't know whether we can do that now--"

"Don't know! Why not?"

The moose-hunter licked both lips, couldn't keep his eyes on Dan's
eyes, focused on his nose instead,--as if the nose were _really_ the
important part of the conversation. "It isn't just me that makes these
decisions, Dan. Other people have to be consulted. It's pretty late to
catch them now, you know. It might be pretty hard to do that--"

No more smiles from Dan. "Now look--you make the calendar, and you can
change it." Face getting red, getting angry--careful, Dan, those two
sherry glasses, watch what you say--"I want it changed back. And I've
got to know right now."

"But you told me you'd be all ready to roll by December 15th--"

To hell with caution--he _had_ to have time. "Look, there's no reason
you can't do it if you want to, Dwight. I'd consider it a personal
favor--I repeat, a very large personal favor--if you'd make the
arrangements. I won't forget it--" What did the swine want, an arm off
at the roots?

"Sorry," said a voice from the rear door of the room. Walter Rinehart
walked across to the sideboard. "You don't mind if I finish this,
Dwight?"

A deep breath from McKenzie, like a sigh of relief. "Go right ahead,
Walt. Sherry, Dan?"

"No, I don't think so." It was Walter, all right. Tall, upright,
dignified Walter, fine shock of wavy hair that was white as the snow
outside. Young-old lines on his face. Some men looked finer after
rejuvenation, much finer than before. There had been a chilly look
about Walter Rinehart's eyes before his first Retread. Not now. A
fine man, like somebody's dear old grandfather. Just give him a chunk
of wood to whittle and a jack-blade to whittle it with--

But inside, the mind was the same. Inside, no changes. Author of the
Rinehart Criteria, the royal road to a self-perpetuating "immortal
elite."

* * * * *

Dan turned his back on Rinehart and said to McKenzie: "I want the date
changed."

"I--I can't do it, Dan." An inquiring glance at Rinehart, a faint
smiling nod in return.

He knew he'd blundered then, blundered badly. McKenzie was afraid.
McKenzie wanted another lifetime, one of these days. He'd decided that
Rinehart would be the one who could give it to him. But worse, far
worse: Rinehart knew now that some