Alice was sad when he was sad, gay when he was gay, and romantic to the same split-degree in the same split-second. She even told him his old jokes with the same inflection he always used. Their mood affinity was geared as closely as the comptin-reduco-determina. What more could a man want? And, damn it, why should Vera's perfume linger in that back bedroom? * * * * * The fumigators could do nothing. They left, after the third trip, shaking their heads. Joe stood in the doorway, insisting he could still smell it. Alice said, "It's probably mental, dear. Perhaps you still--still--what's that word? Perhaps you still love her." "How could you think that?" he asked. "How? How could you think that unless I was thinking it?" "I couldn't. I love you, too, Joe, but you know why that is." "What do you mean?" "We both love you, Joe." "Both? You and Vera?" "No. You and I, we both love _you_." "That," said Joe peevishly, "is ridiculous. If you could think for yourself, you'd know it was ridiculous." "Of course," she agreed. And frowned, because he was frowning. "You act like a robot," Joe said. She nodded. "That's all you are," Joe went on evenly, "a robot. No volition." She nodded, frowning. "I'm sick of it." She said nothing, sympathetically looking sick. And then he smiled and said, "I'm not stumped. Not the inventor of the comptin-reduco-determina. By Harry, I'll give you volition. I'll give you enough volition to make you dizzy." And because he was smiling, she was smiling. And only a very perceptive person might notice that her smile seemed to have an intensity, an anticipation slightly beyond his. He got to work on it that night. He would have to erase some of his mental background from her brain. He wanted her no less intelligent, no less discerning, but with enough of a change in background to give her a viewpoint of her own. He labored until midnight, and tumbled into bed with a headache. Next morning, at breakfast, he told her, "We'll try it out tonight. After that, you'll be a person." "Of course. And will you love me, Joe?" "More coffee, please," he answered. At the office, there was another note from his secretary: _Mr. Burke wants to see you. At your convenience._ At your convenience? Was Burke going soft? Joe went right in. * * * * * Burke was smiling, a miracle in itself. Burke's voice was jovial. "The Chief's been telling me about the new wife, Joe. I guess I owe you an apology." "Not at all," Joe said. "I had no right to be rude. I was a little overworked--at home. I wasn't myself." Burke nodded smugly, soaking it up. "Beautiful, the Chief tells me. Am I going to meet her, Joe?" "If you want. How about tonight, for dinner? I've got something new planned. I'm giving her volition. Maybe you'll want to watch." "Volition?" Joe went on to explain about volition, making it as simple as he could, to match Burke's mind.