He started to say something, then changed his mind at the futility of it and fell silent. She regarded him from the corner of her vision for a moment, feeling strangely sympathetic toward him. It made her feel something of a heel when he fell silently accusing like that, and she didn't like the feeling. If only he'd rant and rave at her, stand on his own two feet and maybe even beat her once in a while. She wouldn't like that, but at least it would be better than this outwardly placid pacificism. She suspected his attitude stemmed from an inferior complex due to his being android; he could spin the world on its tail, corner all the credits in the solar system, but still he could not escape the fact of his artificial birth. That fact was her weapon, and he knew it and was afraid of it. After awhile, he said slowly, "I'm going to get a divorce, Silvia." She looked at him swiftly, her eyes taking in each facet of his features to see if he were jesting. She even wondered for a moment if she had heard correctly. "I'm going to get a divorce on Arcturus," he repeated, not looking at her. "I've been thinking it over for the past several months. Finally, I decided it would be the best thing for both of us. I hope you won't contest it; I don't think I'd like one of those running battles." Silvia sat stunned by the revelation. This was to have been her surprise party, not his, for under Arcturan divorce regulations the member initiating the action had the distinct advantage, especially when the other was unprepared; the war-conditioned star-system had developed this marital blitzkrieg to satisfy the sporting instincts of its people and to attract the curiosity-seeking Earth trade. She had figured it as a surprise to him, knowing he would be shocked by its suddenness and take no action against her demands for what would normally constitute an excessive amount of alimony. "I thought I'd better tell you," he said, almost apologetically, "even if it does work to my disadvantage." He got up. "If you'd care to discuss it further, I'll be in the bar." In shocked silence, Silvia watched her husband retreat down the aisle. It was so typical of him to tell her, but the thought of him doing something like this at all was incredible. More than that, it was unbearable. She felt anger surge within her to realize that she'd been beaten to the punch, even if the romantic fool had confessed his intentions. Slowly, she could sense her plans wavering, becoming insecure, and panic gripped her. She'd had it all planned, all of it, working out the details with secret enthusiasm, never suspecting George was discontented enough to take action himself. * * * * *