of a van Manderpootz conception.
Nevertheless, Denise caught the gist of it and her eyes glowed emerald
fire.

"It's fascinating!" she exclaimed. She rose and moved over to the table.
"I'm going to try it."

"Not without the professor, you won't! It might be dangerous."

That was the wrong thing to say. The green eyes glowed brighter as she
cast me a whimsical glance. "But I am," she said. "Dick, I'm going
to--see my ideal man!" She laughed softly.

I was panicky. Suppose her ideal turned out tall and dark and powerful,
instead of short and sandy-haired and a bit--well, chubby, as I am.
"No!" I said vehemently. "I won't let you!"

She laughed again. I suppose she read my consternation, for she said
softly, "Don't be silly, Dick." She sat down, placed her face against
the opening of the barrel, and commanded. "Turn it on."

I couldn't refuse her. I set the mirror whirling, then switched on the
bank of tubes. Then immediately I stepped behind her, squinting into
what was visible of the flashing mirror, where a face was forming,
slowly--vaguely.

I thrilled. Surely the hair of the image was sandy. I even fancied now
that I could trace a resemblance to my own features. Perhaps Denise
sensed something similar, for she suddenly withdrew her eyes from the
tube and looked up with a faintly embarrassed flush, a thing most
unusual for her.

"Ideals are dull!" she said. "I want a real thrill. Do you know what I'm
going to see? I'm going to visualize ideal horror. That's what I'll do.
I'm going to see absolute horror!"

"Oh, no you're not!" I gasped. "That's a terribly dangerous idea." Off
in the other room I heard the voice of van Manderpootz, "Dixon!"

"Dangerous--bosh!" Denise retorted. "I'm a writer, Dick. All this means
to me is material. It's just experience, and I want it."

Van Manderpootz again. "Dixon! Dixon! Come here." I said, "Listen,
Denise. I'll be right back. Don't try anything until I'm here--please!"

I dashed into the big laboratory. Van Manderpootz was facing a cowed
group of assistants, quite apparently in extreme awe of the great man.

"Hah, Dixon!" he rasped. "Tell these fools what an Emmerich valve is,
and why it won't operate in a free electronic stream. Let 'em see that
even an ordinary engineer knows that much."

Well, an ordinary engineer doesn't, but it happened that I did. Not that
I'm particularly exceptional as an engineer, but I _did_ happen to know
that because a year or two befor