Calvin Gray, Junior Extrapolator, stood nude before his bathroom mirror and played a no-beard light over his chin and thin cheeks. That should take care of the beard problem for the next six months or so. He leaned forward and examined the fine lines beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes. Well, that was one of the signs he'd reached the thirty mark. One couldn't stay forever at the peak of youth--not yet, anyway. Perhaps he should think about that sometime. Trouble was, there was always something more urgent.... He became conscious that Linda was standing in the bathroom door watching him. He hadn't heard her get out of bed. "You used the no-beard just last month, Cal," she said. There was a questioning note in her voice. "Want to keep handsome," he said lightly. "Never know when I might have to run out to some other world. Wouldn't want one of my other wives to catch me with stubble on my face." It was a stale joke, a childish one, but it served to introduce the topic foremost in his mind. "This Eden problem. I can't plan on it, but I hope it's my solo to qualify me for my big E. I'm due, you know." Linda chose to avoid coming directly to grips with it. "Yehudi is already at the door," she said, and made a face of exasperation. "Someday I'm going to turn off the gadget that signals the orderly room the minute you get out of bed, so I can have you all to myself." "It's better if you get used to him," Cal cautioned. "Turn off the signal and that turns on an alarm. Instead of one Yehudi, you'd have twenty rushing in to see what was wrong." "Well, it seems to me a grown man ought to be able to take his morning shower without an observer standing by to see that he doesn't drown himself or swallow the soap," she commented with a touch of acid. "Get used to it, woman," he commanded. "There's only one observer now. When--if I get my Senior rating, there'll be three." She didn't say anything. Instead she stepped over to him, pressed her nude body against his, and tenderly nuzzled his arm. "Maybe if we go back to bed, he'll go away," she said, and glittered her eyes at him wickedly. "He won't, but it's a good idea," Cal grinned at her. "You could tell him to go away," she whispered with a little pout. She was fighting. She was fighting with the only weapon she had to hold him, to keep him from going away, to face an unknown. He knew it, and the bitterness in her eyes, back of her teasing, showed she knew he knew it. He took her tenderly in his arms, held her close to him, stroked her hair, kissed her mouth. She pulled her face away, buried it in his chest. He felt her sobbing. He picked her up, lightly, carried her back into the bedroom, laid her gently on the bed, and, oblivious to the attendant who stood expressionless inside the door, knelt down beside the bed and held her head in his arms. "Don't fight it," he said softly. "It isn't the first time a man has had to go."