As Phyllis slipped the key in the door, she looked up at him in surprise. "Do you know, I'm hungry. I'm starved--for the first time in months." Murt discovered his own stomach was stirring with a prosaic pangful demand of its own. "We should have stopped to eat," he said, realizing they had forgotten lunch. "_Steaks!_ I have some beauties in my freezer!" Phyllis exclaimed. They peeled off their coats and she led him into the small kitchen. She pointed at the cupboard and silverware drawer. "Set the table. We'll eat in five minutes." * * * * * Slipping into an apron, she explored the freezer for meat and French fries, dropped them into the HF cooker and set the timer for 90 seconds. When it clicked off, she was emptying a transparent sack of prepared salad into a bowl. "Coffee will be ready in 50 seconds, so let's eat," she announced. For minutes, they ate silently, ravenously, face to face in the little breakfast nook. Murt had forgotten the pure animal pleasure of satisfying a neglected appetite, and so, apparently, had his wife. _Wife!_ The thought jolted him. Their eyes met, and he knew that the same thing was in her mind. The sulfa-tetradine! With the edge barely off his hunger, he stopped eating. She did, too. They sipped the steaming coffee and looked at each other. "I--feel better," Phyllis said at last. "So do I." "I mean--I feel differently." He studied her face. It was new. The tenseness was gone and it was a beautiful face, with soft lips and intelligent eyes. But now the eyes were merely friendly. And it aroused no more than a casual pleasure in him, the pleasure of viewing a lovely painting or a perfect sunset. A peaceful intellectual rapport settled over them, inducing a physical lethargy. They spoke freely of their sensations, of the hypo-adrenal effects, and wondered that there was no unpleasant reaction. They decided that, initially at least, sulfa-tetradine was a miraculous success. Murt thought he should go back to the hospital and work out a report right away. Phyllis agreed and offered to accompany him, but he said she had better get a night's sleep. The next day would be hectic. After four hours at his desk, he called a taxi and, without hesitation, gave the address of his club. Not until he fell wearily into bed did he remember it was his wedding night. By mutual agreement, the marriage was annulled the next day. Feldman and Peterson were gratified at the efficacy of their drug, but both were horrified that Murt had chosen to experiment on himself. As usual, Phyl had insisted on being left out of the report. * * * * *