Stringer continued, speaking slowly, as if explaining to a very small child. He clasped his long fingers over his left knee hugging it almost to his chest, and rocked himself slightly. "Don't you see? If there was a real war millions of consumers would be taken out of the market for the duration, and many permanently. But this way governments can spend as much as they need to on war goods, to balance the economy, without disturbing the consumers at all. "The politicians love it, too. It supplies them with political issues, not easily come by these days," Stringer concluded. He seemed pleased with himself. J.L.'s glass was again empty. He rose to fill it saying, "That is a very interesting theory. Have you told it to many people?" Stringer did not answer. J.L. turned to see what had caused this sudden reticence. The young man sat with wide-eyed stare and loosely hanging jaw; obviously incapable of speech. Glory had made her strategic entrance. "Ah, there you are, Dear," J.L. said. "Mr. Stringer, here, has just been explaining international politics to me." "Doesn't he have a fine mind, Daddy?" she said, catching the young man's hand and favoring him with a smile that set his adam's apple to dancing. Fine? J.L. thought, narrow would be more accurate. He was about to make an audible comment along those lines when Marge called them in to dinner. All through the meal Marge fawned upon the young man, indulging the predatory instinct of a mother with a marriageable daughter. With the clam bisque she told of Glory's childhood; the prettiest child in the neighborhood. With the pressed duckling she told of an army of suitors, each more desirable than the last, that Glory had discarded like week-old overcoats. And with the fresh tropical fruit supreme she praised the condition of matrimony with such fervor that J.L. could feel the warmth of a blush on his cheek. When the young people left for the evening Marge sighed and said, "Don't they make a nice couple?" "Have you lost your mind?" J.L. replied, with almost saintly restraint. "Is something the matter, Dear?" J.L. threw up his hands in despair. "Is something the matter, she asks. Why did you butter him up like that? Did you see his face? He looked like a dog being scratched behind the ear. If he proposes to Glory tonight it's your fault." "Well, I think he'd make a fine son-in-law." "That non-consumer? I'd sooner drop him from the helicopter," he said. He noticed she was smiling. "Don't laugh, Marge. This is serious. I'm going to have a good long talk with Glory when she gets home. I'll put a stop to this." "Be careful what you say, Dear," she said. "Don't worry. I guess I know how to talk to my own daughter. I'm as modern as the next parent, you know that. But there comes a time when every child needs guidance, and I...." "Don't stay up too late, Dear," Marge interrupted, squelching a yawn. She kissed his cheek and left the room.