"Men like Overman and Wainwright are the alternatives," McLeod said. "I think even Overman knew, at the end, that he was wrong. But it went against everything he ever thought or believed. I almost could have been another Overman." "You're not," Tracy said. "You just had to be goosed." "It's going to be interesting," McLeod told them. "We'll still predict. To stay in business, we'll have to predict, at least to start with. But we'll give our scientists and social workers a free hand, and our predictions will all be practical. Do you realize there hasn't been a substantial scientific discovery put to use in the last fifty years?" Cripp seemed worried. "Their approach is more sensational. They'll draw the readers. But we have to--to stay in business." "That was your trouble all along," McLeod said. "You were a bunch of snipers. I think you're wrong. What's not sensational about a trip to the moon or a cure for cancer or controlled weather that actually helps the farmers or campaigning for the better man in an election because he truly has something to offer? We're liable to put the _World_ right out of business." "We can try," said Tracy, smiling. "Not you, young lady. No more co-respondents. How would you like to be a bonafide social worker?" But Tracy squeezed Cripp's hand and said, "No, thank you. I'd rather be a housewife." McLeod thought he'd have to settle for loving both of them like a brother--then realized he'd be too busy to do anything of the sort.