place, and the opposite sex all turned up opportunely."

I couldn't help thinking of Nurse Farrow as--Nurse Farrow. The name
Gloria did not quite come out. I tried to submerge this mental attitude,
and so I looked down at her with what I hoped to resemble the expression
of a love-struck male. I think it was closer to the expression of a
would-be little-theatre actor expressing lust, and not quite making the
grade. Farrow giggled.

But as I sort of leered down at her, I had to admit upon proper
examination of her charm that Nurse Farrow could very easily become
Gloria, if as she said, we had the time to let the change occur. Another
idea formed in my mind: If Farrow had been kicked in the emotions by
Thorndyke, I'd equally been pushed in the face by Catherine. That made
us sort of kindred souls, as they used to call it in the early books of
the Twentieth Century.

Gloria Farrow chuckled. "Unlike the old torch-carriers of that day," she
said, "we rebound a bit too fast."

Then she let my arm go and took my hand. We went swinging across the
field in a sort of happy comradeship; it must have looked as though we
were long-term friends. She was a good egg, hurt and beaten down and
shoved off by Thorndyke, but she had a lot of the good old bounce. Of a
sudden impulse I wanted to kiss her.

"Go ahead, Steve," she said. "But it'll be for the probable onlookers.
I'm Mekstrom, you know."

So I didn't try. I just put an arm around her briefly and realized that
any attempt at affection would be like trying to strike sparks off flint
with a hunk of flannel.

We walked hand in hand towards the buildings, strolled up saucily
towards two of the parked cars, made the sort of wave that lovers give
one another in goodbye when they don't really want to demonstrate their
affection before ten thousand people and stepped into two cars and took
off.

Gloria Farrow was in the lead.

We went howling down the road, Farrow in the lead car by a hundred feet
and me behind her. We went roaring around a curve, over a hill, and I
had my perception out to its range, which was far ahead of her car. The
main gate came into range, and we bore down upon that wire and steel
portal like a pair of madmen.

Gloria Farrow plowed into the gate without letting up. The gate went
whirling in pieces, glass flew and tires howled and bits of metal and
plastic sang through the air. Her car weaved aside; I forgot the road
ahead and put my perception into her