* * *

Victor smiled and accepted the proffered martini. He cradled it in long
fingers and, elbows on knees, contemplated his hostess, analyzing her
physical attraction. He finally decided it emanated in the main from her
almond-shaped eyes and in their somewhat mystical synchronization with
her wide, sensual lips. There was definitely a disconcerting
correlation between them when she smiled, and as he was studying this
phenomenon he realized that of course she _was_ smiling.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It was rude of me to stare."

"Don't be silly," she said. "It was most complimentary. But I suppose in
your position it's best to be extremely careful."

"My position?"

"Flirting with your patient's wife."

* * * * *

He put down the martini rather too quickly, sploshing a bit over the
edges of the glass, leaving colorless stains that evaporated in a few
moments. "I don't want you to think _that_, Mrs. Fairfield," he said.
"It's just that ... that ..."

But she didn't interrupt him to say, "Of course not," or "I was just
teasing," or "Isn't it amazing how little rain we've had lately. Did you
realize that this is the driest November in sixteen and a half years?"
She just stared and smiled at him, and let him flounder and make noises
until he gave it up as a bad job and took a long drink from the frosted
glass he had so recently and abruptly put down. She refilled his glass
and leaned back in her chair.

"Could you tell me about him, Mrs. Fairfield?" he said then. "Start as
far back as you can, please."

"All right, Victor," she said. "But it won't be much help, I'm afraid.
Did he tell you he came from the future?"

"He said that both of you did."

"Yes, that's right. Both of us. And I refuse to go back, is that it?"

"Because of some deep-seated neurosis which he wants me to cure. His
story is plausible, logical, once you grant the basic premise that time
travel is an actuality. You see, Mrs. Fairfield--"

"Mimi, please, Victor. After all, we're not in your office, and I'm not
really your patient, am I? Or am I?"

"Of course not. Well, Mimi, then, the first step is to break down his
story. Show him for once and all that it is _not_ plausible, that it is
not even possible, that it is plainly and simply a lie which he himself
has made up to hide something that he is afraid of. Once we can get him
to see this, or at least to wonder about it, once we can break t