hostility of his own. "A
short time ago you hooted the android idea. What changed you?"

"I use it as a term of identification! Good heavens! You act like a
child. All I'm trying to do is get a little information--"

"For whom, Rhoda?"

He threw the question so suddenly it put Rhoda off balance. Quick fear
flashed into her eyes. Then it vanished behind a wall of defiance.

"Are you out of your mind? Why would I have any interest in this mess
except by way of protecting your interests?"

"_My_ interests. I can remember not long ago when you'd have called them
_our_ interests."

"There you go again. Talking like a child!"

Frank crossed the room and stood close to Rhoda's chair. He looked down
at her, and when he spoke there was a change in his manner. Now there
was a finality in his tone that had ice in it.

"I don't know what this is all about, Rhoda, but I'm not as much of a
child as you seem to think. Subjectiveness does make a person sound and
act that way at times. This is a reflection of inner confusion and
bewilderment. I'll admit I'm confused and bewildered. But I'm getting
your message, too. I think you're telling me that whatever has happened
to you is none of my business. Very well. You know where to find me if
you need me."

He was walking toward the door, his back turned, so he did not see the
mute appeal in Rhoda's face. "Frank--!"

He had opened the door and turned. "I'm sorry, Rhoda. I thought we had
something. I'll admit I didn't handle it very well but I did my best."

He went out and closed the door softly behind him and was gone.

Pure tragedy ripped across Rhoda's eyes as she sprang to her feet, took
several steps toward the door, and stopped. A wordless cry rose within
her and came out as a miserable little kitten whimper.

But then she stiffened. The moment of panic passed. She straightened and
touched a displaced lock of hair. The warmth of the new excitement she
lived with gushed anew, and the bright, nervous smile touched her lips.

She went over, made herself a drink and went to the window. She looked
down. He was out there somewhere, going about his mysterious business.
The smile she thought of as soft and tender was really brittle and quite
hard. She downed her drink thirstily as though it helped quench the
fever in her throat.

She put the glass down and heard a whisper: "John, John, why don't you
come to me? I'll help you. I'll understand. I'll teach you to make love.
Let