pped up in his business with little regard for
Ursula or John, letting them exist under his roof without making them
a part of his life. Ursula with her succession of gigolos and her
psycho-plays and John withdrawn into his upstairs room with his books.
Then he closed his mind again as if the insight were too blinding.

What strange customs these MacDonalds had! Yet he had to admit the
meal looked more appetizing than anything he had ever seen. It gave an
impression of sumptuous plenty to see the food for everybody in one
place instead of individually packaged under glistening thermocel. And
instead of throwaway dishes they used chinaware that could have come
right out of a museum.

Ursula asked, "What kind of fish is this?"

Bill MacDonald answered with a big grin. "It's Royal Chinook salmon
that I caught in the fish derby on the Columbia River only last--"

Mrs. MacDonald colored suddenly. "You'll have to forgive Bill. He gets
himself so wrapped up in his fishing."

Glancing at MacDonald Philon was surprised to see the same confusion
and embarrassment on his host's face.

It was after dinner when Mrs. MacDonald and Jean were clearing the
table that Philon looked over the library shelves. MacDonald himself
appeared uneasy and hovered in the background.

"You'll have to excuse my selections. They're all pretty old.
I--er--inherited most of them from a grandfather."

In a few minutes Philon spotted the _Smyth Report_. Fixing its
position well in mind he turned away. MacDonald was saying, "Come down
in the basement and I'll show you my hobby room."

"Glad to." As MacDonald led the way Philon whispered to John, "You'll
find the book on the second shelf from the bottom on the right side."

John returned him a stony stare of belligerence and Philon clamped
his jaw. The boy dropped his glance and gave a reluctant nod of
acquiescence.

Upstairs a half hour later Ursula, who had filled her small ashtray
with a mound of stubs, suddenly told Philon she was going home.

"But, Ursula, I thought that--"

With thin-lipped impatience she snapped, "I just remembered I had
another engagement at eight."

Mrs. MacDonald was genuinely sorry. "Oh, that's too bad, I thought we
could have the whole evening together."

Casting a meaningful glance at John and getting a confirming cold-eyed
nod in return, Philon got on his feet. "Sorry, folks. Maybe we'll get
together another time."

"I hope so," MacDonald said.

In angry s