e back in a conciliatory tone, "And I don't fit the
description, eh? Well, anyway, Bill, we got things to talk over. How
about it?"

Bill shrugged noncommittally, unlocked his door and the two entered.
Perched on the arm of a chair, Bill lighted a cigarette and pulled
deeply of it.

"Well, what is it?" He glanced coolly at his brother sitting with his
left leg dangling over the arm of his chair.

Tom cleared his throat and said, "I--er, came to see how we're
stacking up, Bill. After all we got a big show on our hands and the
whole world is waiting for the curtain to go up. But we can't be
squabbling between ourselves when we go on stage. Let's settle matters
now and get on with our job--after all we both got a lot at stake in
the company."

Bill studied the end of his cigarette a long moment. "I guess you
might as well count me out, Tom. I'm quitting the show."

Furrows appeared above Tom's brows. "Quitting! And after all you've
put into the venture? Bill, have you gone nuts?" He stopped a moment.
Then he said, "Oh, I guess I see the light. Christy, eh? Well, Bill,
honest--and I really mean this--you can have all the profits of the
trip if I'm guilty of trying to take Christy away from you. You've got
the wrong slant on things."

Bill shrugged, saying, "It's not that--and I still am not
convinced--it's just that I'm considering another proposition."

Tom got to his feet in agitation, looking down at Bill incredulously.
"My God, Bill, you sure have changed! What about all those bull
sessions we had reading and rereading the George Staker philosophy of
free enterprise? The world needs an object lesson to show how far it
has strayed from those first wonderful days of the Atomic Age. We are
heirs, Bill by special franchise, Old George saw the shape of things
to come pretty clearly, and it's up to us to carry out his vision of
things as they should be."

Bill ground out his cigarette in a tray. His underlip crowded out
stubbornly. "I'm not going."

For a moment Tom stared hard at Bill, and a heavy singing silence lay
between them. Then Tom strode to the door and opened it. "All right,
Bill--you and I are through!"

The door slammed. For awhile Bill sat looking at it, wondering why the
slammed door reminded him of looking at his reflection in the bathroom
mirror and telling himself "I'm scared--scared as hell. And if I don't
get hold of myself, I'm through--washed up!"

* * * * *