But murder was another thing, a totally different thing that had entered her mind only briefly during arguments and then not seriously. Even blackmail would be lily-white compared to it. She had never actually entertained the idea for any length of time, but now she considered it--not seriously even now, she told herself hastily, but merely as an intellectual diversion. Android or not, as far as the courts were concerned, it was murder just as though the victim were a human. But the case might never reach the courts, for the "organization" would handle all homicidal details, she remembered, and they were probably professionals in the art. Strange, no one had discovered the organization, but that probably testified to its ability. They could probably kill someone, even George, and no one would ever know.... She shook her head in mild disdain, wondering at the sudden flood of criminal thoughts started by the stranger. She reminded herself that she was going to Arcturus to divorce her husband, not to kill him. She wondered disinterestedly if he were sulking up there on the observation platform. The loudspeaker crackled and a feminine voice said, "The mechanical difficulties have been located and are being repaired. It will be approximately thirty minutes, Earth rating, before we enter subspace again. Meanwhile, the lounge is open for those wishing to patronize it. May we suggest a cocktail, followed by a dinner from any of the planets of any system. The view from the observation platform--" The voice droned on, telling of the swimming pool, the three-dimensional (off-gravity) tennis rooms, and other diversions designed to get passengers' minds off the fact that they were temporarily stalled in open space. * * * * * George appeared in the doorway at one end of the aisle and walked toward her. She gave a small gasp as she saw the stranger come through the doorway behind him. They came down the aisle, and George dropped into his seat. The stranger looked questioningly at her before he passed. She shook her head no. "There's a good view from the observation platform," George said, as though making an effort to be conversational. "Now's the time to see it, when the ship's in normal space. They've got a large transparent dome, like half a bubble, and when you look up it seems as though you're out there in space, floating." "Really?" she said drily. "I'm not exactly a tourist, you know. I _have_ been on observation platforms before." For a moment he looked at her as though wondering if there were anything he could say that wouldn't bring out a disagreeable word. "Silvia, I wish--" he began. "All right, all right," she interrupted wearily. "If there's anything I've said to injure your poor sensitive feelings, I apologize. But please don't give me that lost sheep-dog look; I can't stand it."