_82._ My first thought when I heard the Grass for the second time had broken its bounds, was that I had perhaps been a little hasty with Miss Francis. It was not at all likely she would succeed where so many better trained and better equipped scientists had so far failed, but I felt a vicarious sympathy with her, as being out of the picture when all her colleagues were striving with might and main to save the world; especially after the years she had spent on Mount Whitney. It would be an act of simple generosity on my part, I thought, to give her the wherewithal to entertain the illusion of importance. When all was said and done, she was a woman, and I could afford a chivalrous gesture even in the face of her overweening arrogance. I am sorry to say she responded with complete illgrace. "I knew youd eventually have to come crawling to me to save your hide." "You mistake the situation entirely, Miss Francis," I informed her with dignity. "I am conferring, not asking favors. I have every confidence in my research staff--" "My God! Those guineapig murderers; those discoveryforgers; those whitesmocked acolytes in the temple of Yes. You value your life or your purse at exactly what theyre worth if you expect those drugstoreclerks to preserve them for you." "I doubt if either is in the slightest danger," I assured her confidently. "Hysterics have lost perspective. Long before the Grass becomes an immediate concern my drugstoreclerks, with less exalted opinions of their talents than you, will have found the means to destroy it." "A soothing fairytale. Weener, the truth is not in you. You know the reason you come to me is that youre frightened, scared, terrified. Well, strangely enough, I'm not going to reject your munificence. I'll accept it, because to do God's work is more important than any personal pride of mine or any knowledge that one of the best things _Cynodon dactylon_ could do--if I do not take too much upon myself in judging a fellowcreature--would be to bury Albert Weener." I remained unmoved by her tirade. "When you returned from Whitney you told me there remained only details to be worked out. About how long do you think it will be before you have a workable compound?" She burst into a laugh and took out her toothpick to point it at me. "Go and put your penny in another slot if you want an answer to an idiot question like that. How long? A day, a month, a year, ten years." "In ten years--" I began. "Exactly," she said and put away the toothpick. _83._ I phoned Stuart Thario to fly over right away for a conference. "General," I began, "we'll have to start looking ahead and making plans." He hid his mustache with the side of his forefinger. "Don't quite understand, Albert--have details here of activities ... next three years ..." I pressed the buzzer for my secretary. "Bring General Thario some refreshment," I ordered.