Illegal, of course, but I made terrific time crossing the Iowa-Illinois border where Chicagoland begins. I didn't squeeze back into the expressway until mighty Municipal Tower came into view through the dense industrial haze above Lake Michigan. There atop the building stood a gigantic sign revolving on a pivot with the wind. It bore the seal of Chicago and the stunning legend: I WILL COMPETE. Most inspiring motto in the world, I think. Celia touched my hand. "We'll have to stop at the bank first." "No time," I said. "We're due at the school at nine-thirty." "It won't hurt to be a few minutes late. This is important, Bart." We have a good marriage, and I don't quarrel with Celia's wishes. But this meant another delay, and I could already see half the morning shot, what with the meeting in the principal's office, and afterwards perhaps taking Freddie out for a soda or something to make him feel secure and loved. What a lot of trouble that boy was getting into lately. I wheeled out of traffic and feathered down to the roof of the 1st National. A conveyer belt carried our ship toward the teller's window. Celia opened her purse and withdrew a bank form. "Here, I think you'll have to sign this, darling." I voiced my irritation. "Withdraw it in your own name. It's a joint account. Personally, I don't understand how you can need more money when I just gave you four hundred yesterday." "This is a very large amount," said Celia softly. "Bank requires it." "How much?" I asked suspiciously. "Ten thousand." She was staring at me intently with her almond-shaded eyes. Her full red lips were parted in the faintest trace of a smile, as her neat brown-pencilled eyebrows arched slightly in amused defiance. She was daring me to ask the obvious question. Hell, I thought, I can afford it. I signed the form and passed it back to her. We were at the teller window. She scribbled on the sheet and handed it to the clerk. "Now," I said, feeling that I'd fulfilled the code of gallantry, "may I ask what you need it for?" "Certainly, dear. I'm giving it to the Mendelsohns as a going-away present. Tonight at their farewell party." "What! Ten thousand credits? Are you insane! The Mendelsohns mean nothing to me." I was so upset that I kicked the degravity pedal and we started to rise from the roof. I brought us down with a thud. "They mean a lot to me," said Celia calmly. "They used to mean a lot to you too." "But ten thousand!" I protested. "What do you think I am, a millionaire philanthropist?" "It is a lot of money," Celia agreed placatingly. "But the Mendelsohns are leaving tomorrow for Primus Gladus. We'll never see them again." "So what!" I said heatedly. "Thousands of people go to the stars as colonists. Thousands of failures like the Mendelsohns think their luck will change on another planet. Does this mean that--"