gized. Now will you go home?"

"Home!" Tarb shrieked. "Home when there's work to be done and--"

"--and you're not going to be the one to do it. Tarb," he said,
attempting to seize her foot, which she pulled away, "I was going to
tell you tomorrow, but you might as well know tonight. I've taken you
off the column for good. I have a better job for you."

She looked at him. "A better job? Are you being sarcastic? What as?"

"As my wife." He got up and came over to her. She stood still, almost
stunned. "That solves the whole problem tidily. An office is no place
for you, darling--you're really a simple home-girl at heart. Newspaper
work is too strenuous for you; it upsets you and makes you nervous and
irritable. I want you to stay home and take care of our house and hatch
our eggs--unostentatiously, of course."

"Why, you--" she spluttered.

He put his foot over her mouth. "Don't give me your answer now. You're
in no condition to think. Tell me tomorrow."

* * * * *

It rained all night and continued on into the morning. Tarb's head
ached, but she had to make an appearance at the office. First she vizzed
an acquaintance she had made the day before; then she took her umbrella
and set forth.

As she kicked open the door to the newsroom, all sound ceased. Voices
stopped abruptly. Typewriters halted in mid-click. Even the roar of the
presses downstairs suddenly seemed to mute. Every head turned to look at
Tarb.

_Humph_, she thought, removing her plastic oversocks, _so suppose I was
a little oblique yesterday. They needn't stare at me. They never stare
at Drosmig. Just because I'm a woman, I suppose!_ The gate crashed
loudly behind her.

"Oh, Miss Morfatch," Miss Snow called. "Mr. Zarnon said he wanted to
see you as soon as you came in. It's urgent." And she giggled.

"Really?" Tarb said. "Well, he'll just have to wait until I've wrung out
my wings." Sooner or later, she would have to face Stet, but she wanted
to put it off as long as possible.

She opened the door to her office and halted in amazement. For, seated
on a stool behind the desk, haggard but vertical, was Senbot Drosmig,
busily reading letters and blue-penciling comments on them with his
feet.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, giving her a wan smile. "Surprised to
see me functioning again, eh?"

"Well--yes." She opened her dripping umbrella mechanically and stood it
in a corner. "How--"

"I realized last night t