Across the room from Stella and Beverly, Temple Bells was looking up at Hilton and laughing. She took his elbow and, in the gesture now familiar to all, pressed his arm quickly, but in no sense furtively, against her side. And he, equally openly, held her forearm for a moment in the full grasp of his hand. "And he _isn't_ a pawer," Stella said, thoughtfully. "He never touches any of the rest of us. She _taught_ him to do that, damn her, without him ever knowing anything about it ... and I wish I knew how she did it." "That isn't pawing," Beverly laughed lightly. "It's simply self-defense. If he didn't fend her off, God knows what she'd do. I still say it's disgusting. And the way she dances with him! She ought to be ashamed of herself. He ought to fire her." "She's never been caught outside the safety zone, and we've all been watching her like hawks. In fact, she's the only one of us all who has never been alone with him for a minute. No, darling, she isn't playing games. She's playing for keeps, and she's a mighty smooth worker." "Huh!" Beverly emitted a semi-ladylike snort. "What's so smooth about showing off man-hunger that way? Any of us could do that--if we would." "Miaouw, miaouw. Who do you think you're kidding, Bev, you sanctimonious hypocrite--_me_? She has staked out the biggest claim she could find. She's posted notices all over it and is guarding it with a pistol. Half your month's salary gets you all of mine if she doesn't walk him up the center aisle as soon as we get back to Earth. We can both learn a lot from that girl, darling. And I, for one am going to." "Uh-uh, she hasn't got a thing _I_ want," Beverly laughed again, still lightly. Her friend's barbed shafts had not wounded her. "And I'd much rather be thought a hypocrite, even a sanctimonious one, than a ravening, slavering--I can't think of the technical name for a female wolf, so--_wolfess_, running around with teeth and claws bared, looking for another kill." "You _do_ get results, I admit." Stella, too, was undisturbed. "We don't seem to convince each other, do we, in the matter of technique?" * * * * * At this point the Hilton-Bells _tete-a-tete_ was interrupted by Captain Sawtelle. "Got half an hour, Jarve?" he asked. "The commanders, especially Elliott and Fenway, would like to talk to you." "Sure I have, Skipper. Be seeing you, Temple," and the two men went to the captain's cabin; in which room, blue with smoke despite the best efforts of the ventilators, six full commanders were arguing heatedly. "Hi, men," Hilton greeted them. "Hi, Jarve," from all six, and: "What'll you drink? Still making do with ginger ale?" asked Elliott (Engineering). "That'll be fine, Steve. Thanks. You having as much trouble as we are?"