d charming
and she was naturally flattered with his attentions. Still, although he
was older than Sheila, she sensed that he was a boy rather than a man
and had the odd feeling that, faced with a real crisis, he would confirm
this tragically.

It was night aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_. Which was to say the
blue-green night lights had replaced the white day lights in the
companionways and public rooms of the spaceship, since its ports were
sealed against the fierce glare of the sun. It was hard to believe,
Sheila thought, that they were only nineteen million miles from the sun.
Everything was so cool--so comfortably air-conditioned....

She met Larry in the Sunside Lounge, a cabaret as nice as any terran
nightclub she had ever seen. There were stylistic Zodiac drawings on the
walls and blue-mirrored columns supporting the roof. Like everything
else aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_, the Sunside Lounge hardly seemed
to belong on a spaceship. For Sheila Kelly, though--herself a third
secretary with the department of Galactic Economy--it was all very
thrilling.

"Hello, Larry," she said as the Secret Serviceman joined her at their
table. He was a tall young man in his late twenties with crewcut blond
hair; but he sat down heavily now and did not offer Sheila his usual
smile.

"Why, what on earth is the matter?" Sheila asked him.

"Nothing. I need a drink, that's all."

The drinks came. Larry gulped his and ordered another. His complete
silence baffled Sheila, who finally said:

"Surely it isn't anything I did."

"You? Don't be silly."

"Well! After the way you said that I don't know if I should be glad or
not."

"Just forget it. I'm sorry, kid. I--" He reached out and touched her
hand. His own hand was damp and cold.

"Going to tell me, Larry?"

"Listen. What's a guy supposed to do if he overhears something he's not
supposed to overhear, and--"

"How should I know unless you tell me what you overheard? It is you
you're talking about, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I was going off duty, walking by officer quarters and ... oh,
forget it. I better not tell you."

"I'm a good listener, Larry."

"Look, Irish. You're a good anything--and that's the truth. You have
looks and you have brains and I have a hunch through all that Emerald
Isle sauciness you have a heart too. But--"

"But you don't want to tell me."

"It isn't I don't want to, but no one's supposed to know, not even the
President."

"You sure make it