s barroom brawler attacked me. I'm surprised you
allow your patrons to get into the shape he is. Please bring our
bill."

The head waiter stuttered, his eyes going about in despair, even as
his assistants were lifting the fallen champion to his feet and
hustling him away.

An occupant of one of the nearby tables spoke up, collaborating Joe's
words. The action had been fast, though brief, and had won the
fascinated attention of that half of the patrons of the Exclusive Room
near enough to see. Somebody else called out, too. And it came to Joe
cynically, that a brawl in an establishment exclusive to Uppers,
differed little from on of Middle or even Lower caste.

But it was impossible that they remain. He had looked forward to this
evening with Nadine Haer, had planned to lay the foundations for a
future campaign, when, as a newly created Upper, he would be in the
position to mention marriage. He fumed, inwardly, even as he helped
her with her wrap, preparatory to leaving.

Nadine, now that she had recovered composure, said coldly, "I suppose
you realize you broke that man's nose and injured his eye to an extent
I'd have to examine him to evaluate?"

Behind her, he rolled his eyes upward in mute protest. He said, "What
was I supposed to do, hand him a rose from our table bouquet?"

"Violence is the resort of the incompetent."

"You must tell that, some time, to a jungle animal being attacked by a
lion."

"Oh, you're impossible!"

III

When Freddy Soligen entered his living room, he automatically switched
off the Telly screen which was the entire north wall. The room's
lights automatically went brighter.

His perpetual air of sour cynicism was absent as he chuckled to the
room's sole inhabitant, "What! A son of mine gawking at Telly? Next
I'll be finding tranks by the bowl full, sitting on the tea table."

His son grinned at him. Already, at the ago of sixteen, Samuel Soligen
was a good three inches taller than his father, at least ten pounds
heavier. The boy was bright of eye, toothy of smile, gawky as only a
teen-ager can be gawky, and obviously the proverbial apple of his
father's eye.

Sam said, the faintest note of apology in his tone, "Just finished my
assignments, Papa. Thought I'd see if there was anything worthwhile on
the air."

"An incurable optimist," Freddy chuckled. "You take after your mother.
Believe me, Sam. There's _never_ anything worthwhile on Telly."

"Not even when you're casting