"It's Dr. Allison's advice to him," said Lois. "Dr. Allison thinks it would be bad for him to have too many wives around at one time, and he considers two years long enough to prove certainly whether a woman can be fertile with Blan. I'm not the first. I won't be the last. But it's hard to have to go away and never see him again." These women he had seen today, these wives of Forsythe: they aroused no bitter feelings in Truggles. He felt clean and strong talking to them. They were like the many women to whom he had held out sympathy and understanding over the years, who had been stubborn and wilful at first, only to melt at last and see the truth. If only he could get them from Forsythe's influence, he thought he could save these women. Truggles turned to Trella. "Do you see what's in store for you, young woman?" he demanded. "Do you still think it's worth ruining your life to live here in sin with this man?" "I may be different," she answered calmly. "And if I'm not, tell me, Mr. Truggles: does a mouse have the right to question the motives of a man?" * * * * * Truggles went back into Forsythe's office. The tetraploid man had swung his chair away from his desk and was staring moodily out the big window. He inclined his head at Truggles' entrance, but did not speak. "Forsythe, this has been the most amazing, the most revolting, revelation I have ever experienced," opened Truggles. His indignation fueled his courage now, and his voice held the commanding resonance of a pipe organ. "You claim to be superhuman. I say you are inhuman, to force these poor young women to live in servitude, sharing you with each other, and then to discard them with brutal unconcern when you find they cannot fulfill your insane dream of foisting others of your kind on the earth!" "They love me and I have a great affection for all of them," said Forsythe, not turning. "I provide for them when they leave me. Because the great experience of love cannot last a lifetime, should it be denied altogether?" The ancient bitterness swept over Truggles in a consuming wave. Yes, yes, cried his soul, far better never to have loved, never to have known the meaning of love, than to have it snatched from the grasp in full flower! Forsythe was a monster. How could he know? Did the superman have telepathic powers? Or was it again chance, this dropping of a remark that burned deep into his writhing memories? Forsythe's face was turned from him. One shot and this incredible thing, this liver-hued monstrosity that sat before him would be removed from the face of the earth. Truggles put his hand inside his coat. The butt of the pistol was cool under his fingers. No. A murderer in prison has no influence. He cannot battle evil, recruiting to his shining leadership an army of righteous people. Truggles dropped his hand to his lap and said calmly: