Lucy dropped the pencil and clapped her hands. "I have it," she exclaimed. "Time me now." "I'll have to weigh you first," Cornith said. "Dripping wet." Lucy's cheeks became a shade pinker. "Won't you take my word for it?" Cornith shook his head. "You're an accomplished liar." "I'll weigh her," the blonde offered. Cornith shrugged. "It's okay with me. But when you claim you weigh a hundred and twenty-three pounds, with no ounces lacking, I'm going to do the weighing." Lucy's cheeks took on a rosy shade. Apparently preoccupied with her own thoughts, she made no reply. She followed the blonde girl out of the room and Cornith sat on the edge of the desk to wait. He wished now that he had not posed the problem. He could think of a thousand reasons why it would be interesting to be married to such an intensely alive creature. And he wasn't deceived about what were termed her bad qualities. They were the result of a training pattern. They were not her basic personality and they were not deeply ingrained. In fact, she could be, and was, everything he wanted in a woman. He had made up his mind to ask her to marry him even if she failed to solve the problem, when she and the blonde returned. * * * * * There were faint beads of moisture on the lobes of Lucy's ears, and the rose-colored dress hung awry. "Didn't have time to dry thoroughly, and had to jump into my clothes. Hurry! We're going to be married. Right now!" "How much do you weigh?" "One twenty-two, fourteen and three-quarter ounces. But I'll weigh one twenty-three within twenty minutes." Cornith shook his head. "Stubborn," he told himself. "Bluffing. Lying. I ought to teach her a lesson." "I'm going to put a clause in the ceremony," he said aloud, "that if you don't weigh exactly a hundred and twenty-three pounds, we're not legally married." "You're so clever," she smiled. "I was going to do that myself." "Game, anyway," Cornith mused, as he followed her hurriedly out to the chute and up to the roof. "We'll get married and then you can weigh me," she said. "And if I don't weigh one twenty-three--" Her brow puckered. "Gee! I hope I've got it figured right." "If you don't weigh a hundred and twenty-three, it won't be legal," Cornith insisted. "I'm going to put in that clause." A look of pain showed in her features for an instant, then it was gone and she led the way to a sky-taxi. "There's a hurry-up marrying place ten minutes away," she said. "Same altitude. Near sea level. We can get married in a hurry there." Cornith shrugged. "Tell the driver."