"Bart, consider," said Celia. "If they had remained here on Earth as our friends, there would have been many occasions in a lifetime when I would have sent them remembrances. The birth of children. Anniversaries. Graduations. Confirmations, bar mitzvahs, wedding presents. Funeral wreaths. All I've done now is roll up all those gifts of a lifetime into one farewell present, of a size that will help them a little on their new world." "I've cut off a lot of heads for that money. Grain brokerage is a brutal profession, what with thirty billion mouths clamoring for food, and the government keeping speculation in a straight-jacket, and that insurrection on Venus, the granary of the solar system, making wheat futures a nightmare. This kind of generosity leaves me cold. I had more to say on the subject, but the bank teller spoke up to Celia. "Your identification, please?" Celia showed him her wrist plate. "Ah, Mrs. Sponsor, I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but this is such a large amount that we'll need your husband's personal verification. Bank rules, you know." "This is my husband." My irritation mounted. "I'm Sponsor," I said to the teller, flourishing my wrist band. "What's the difficulty?" "Ah, Mr. Sponsor, would you like to step in a moment and speak to our chief cashier?" "I haven't time," I blurted sharply. "Give my wife the money!" We were already ten minutes late to our school appointment. The teller looked abashed and hesitant. "Look here," I demanded, "if we don't get better service around here I'll take my account elsewhere!" That did it. He fussed around and finally handed Celia the bundle which she had some trouble fitting into her purse. "Small denominations," she explained. I gunned our car peevishly, I must admit, and the acceleration shoved her back into the seat rest. We were ten minutes late already. I should have called my office. We soared into air above old Chicago, the part rebuilt after World War III. The lake claimed a good share of the blast area, of course, but that's what makes our city so unusually beautiful now. Four hundred tiny islands dot the lakefront, some connected by causeways, others reachable only by aircar or boat. "Why are you so cross?" said Celia, taking the offensive the way women do when they've pulled some outrageous stunt. "Look, you can't have it both ways. You can give them the money, but you can't get me to say I like the idea." "Solly Mendelsohn was once your closest friend." "Solly is a poor competitor, Celia. Let's face up to it. He has brains. He once showed signs of being a brilliant soil chemist, but he washed out of school. And then he became a fertilizer salesman, and he couldn't make a go of that. And after that he took up hydroponic farming, but he wasn't a success at that either. No wonder he wants to try another planet!" "Solly has had a lot of personal misfortunes."