Chesbro said fretfully, "Now Mickey, _please_. Why can't you be reasonable? You're an outlander here, you've got nothing to do with the community. You want to move in with your nickel factory? Go ahead. I won't stand in your way. I'll even help you. But you can't do anything with the federal grants, because you don't have the connections, because you don't have the information about who needs what, because you aren't local and wouldn't be allowed to come within smelling distance of it in the first place. Why not live and let live?" He was open and honest, Groff saw--as open and honest as the likes of Artie Chesbro ever knew how to be. You work your side of the street, he was saying, and I'll work mine. Under the ethical stands of Artie Chesbro he had made an honorable proposal. It would never have occurred to him to entertain propositions like-- Federal funds are money in trust-- A time of catastrophe is not a time to feather one's nest-- Or even-- A businessman who opposes what you want to do is not necessarily a jealous rival. There simply was no handle, Groff thought, by which you could get hold of the man. He was completely out of touch. Off in a kind of a dream. It was almost as if he was drunk; but that, of course, was impossible--liquor would have put him out on his feet in seconds. Polly Chesbro said suddenly, "What did you want the radio truck for?" Artie looked alarmed. "Now, honey, don't you get mixed up in--" She said, "Artie, I know how your mind works. Did you think if you got on the radio and told them that you and the congressman were handling relief here, that would keep him from backing out? Did you think everybody in the country would be listening--at this time of the morning!--and that would make it official?" "They're recording," Artie Chesbro said sullenly. "They're going to rebroadcast in the morning. I already talked to one of the men from the network." Dick McCue said, "Mr. Chesbro, it's nothing to me one way or another. But there's a curfew, you know. You can't go running around out there tonight." Artie Chesbro's expression was petulant. "Leave me alone, will you? I know what I'm doing!" Polly Chesbro folded her hands and looked at him. "Artie, don't you ever learn?" Her expression was gentle, her voice was calm--even warm, Groff thought, with a sudden shock that was almost jealousy. "Remember the television station?" Artie whined, "Honey, I told you a thousand times--" "You were all set to make a million dollars out of television," she said. "Remember? Only you wouldn't wait for the F.C.C. to grant the license. 'We'll start building,' you said, 'and then they won't have the guts to turn us down.' Only they did. You never got that construction permit. What was it my father put up? Fifteen thousand dollars? And you lost it all, remember?" "Honey! These people don't want to hear--"