t I didn't find any duplication of nebulary
configurations with the stuff I had with me. However, it was relatively
coarse. Tomorrow I'll take a lot of fine stuff along. It'll take some
time--a full day, at least."

"I expected that. Good going, Jim!"

All four ate heartily, and, after eating, they taped up the day's
reports. Then, tired from their first real day's work in weeks, all went
to their rooms.

* * *

A few minutes later, Garlock tapped lightly at Lola's door.

"Come in." She stiffened involuntarily, then relaxed and smiled. "Oh,
yes, Clee: of course. You're...."

"No, I'm not. I've been doing a lot of thinking about you since last
night, and I may have come up with an answer or two. Also, Belle knows
we aren't pairing, and if we don't hide behind a screen at least once in
a while, she'll know we aren't going to."

"Screen?"

"Screen. Didn't you know these four private rooms are solid? Haven't you
read your house-tape yet?"

"No. But do you think Belle would actually peek?"

"Do you think she wouldn't?"

"Well, I don't like her very much, but I wouldn't think she would do
anything like that, Clee. It isn't urbane."

"She isn't urbane, either, whenever she thinks it might be advantageous
not to be."

"What a _terrible_ thing to say!"

"Take it from me, if Belle Bellamy doesn't know everything that goes on
it isn't from lack of trying. You wouldn't know about room service,
either, then--better scan that tape before you go to sleep
tonight--what'll you have in the line of a drink to while away enough
time so she will know we've been playing games?"

"Ginger ale, please."

"I'll have ginger beer. You do it like so." He slid a panel aside, his
fingers played briefly on a typewriter-like keyboard. Drinks and ice
appeared. "Anything you want--details of the tape."

He lighted two cigarettes, handed her one, stirred his drink. "Now, fair
lady--or should I say beauteous dark lady?--we will follow the precept
of that immortal Chinese philosopher, Chin On."

"You _are_ a Prime Operator, aren't you?" She laughed, but sobered
quickly. "I'm worried. You said I flaunted virginity like a banner, and
now Belle.... What am I doing wrong?"

"There's a lot wrong. Not so much what you're doing as what you aren't
doing. You're too aloof--detached--egg-headish. You know the score,
words and music, but you don't sing. All you do is listen. Belle thinks
you're not only a physical