eventually blow over.

Unluckily for him, these three-dimensional wall pictures were made out
of glaseine, and when he tried setting fire to it he nearly burned down
the house. Upon feeding it to the old-fashioned fireplace nothing grew
hot except his temper. Ripping the picture to shreds would have been the
next step, but you can't rip glaseine.

For maybe the six millionth time he cursed out Don Manton, the
well-known explorer in the realm of outer space. Henry understood in a
general way that Don Manton had been among the first to chart the cities
of Mars and Venus, and had accidentally died on a planet named Immel;
but Henry had no intention of living in Don Manton's shadow.

The picture, which showed the late explorer talking with three
Venusians, had been hung up again when Phoebe came through the ceiling
door along the extension stairway which flicked up to meet her.

"You've been trying to get rid of Don's picture!"

He'd hung it crookedly, and a diagonal slash of white wallpaper had
given him away.

"Just this one. You've got cans of telefilm in the cellar, but them I
don't mind. This," he flicked it with a thumbnail, "I do mind."

"As long as I stay," Phoebe said quietly, "my darling Don's picture
stays."

"But what about your darling Henry? Am I just a humandroid who looks and
behaves and talks like a human being? Haven't I got feelings?" Henry
strode around the room, hitting the fibroid floor like a prehistoric
monster on a sandpaper bridge. "Either that picture goes," he said
finally, definitely, "or I go!"

Phoebe shook out her blonde hair, letting it fall about her shoulders.
"Too bad."

* * * * *

Inside of an hour he had packed his suitcases. Phoebe cried bitterly,
but wouldn't budge about the picture. Henry took the plane. He put up at
his club, went to the bar, and was gobbling down something called
pressurized scotch, when he heard a noise back of him.

"Get away from me!" said Henry, who was quite a few over the traditional
eight by this time. "I've had enough of Don Manton, let alone his
helpers."

Speed Roggs, who had taken a couple of trips with Manton, was tall and
thin as the barstool, and with a spaceman's ability to think fast when
he had to. Loudly he ordered a Venuswiz, explaining to a disgusted
Henry, "After the barkeep mixes the drink he melts the swizzle stick and
pours that in, too." He gulped the stuff down gratefully, then said,
"Tell m