Lines had come between his eyes, and the frown of worry marked him, too. His face about the eyes and nose seemed old. An honest observer would have said that Guy's face had character there. But the lower piece of face was the idea of frivolity. That mustache! It was the sign of a youth trying to be grown up. It was an admission of immaturity that the face behind it was not enough front in itself; that foliage was needed to conceal the lineless face of youth. It was there for beauty's sake! Beauty, he repeated in his mind. He snorted aloud. From now on they'd take him as he felt; as he was. In the face of his sorrow and self-hatred, Maynard was eschewing all signs of youth and self-indulgence. He smiled slowly. They'd accept him, all right. They'd taken him wholeheartedly when he landed at Sahara after the completion of the Mephistan campaign. He'd had a three-day beard then and it hadn't mattered. He entered the bathroom and when he emerged, his face was clean-shaven for the first time since he was twenty. The bell rang, and from somewhere a junior aide came to open the door. Kane stepped in, and greeted Guy with surprise. "Well, young man, where's that face-fern of yours?" "Shaved it off," grinned Maynard. "You look better, I must say." "I feel as though I've dropped a lot of foolishness since I did it," admitted Maynard. "Why did you grow it in the first place?" "Laura Greggor said she liked men with mustaches." "And now you don't like Laura Greggor?" "That isn't it. She'll take me for what I'm worth from now on." "Them's harsh words, podner," drawled Kane. "What _is_ your feeling for Laura?" "I don't know," said Maynard honestly. "We've both been a little rough on one another, you know. She treated me slightly coldish the last time I saw her--though she was indeed warmer than the incident after the _Orionad_ got painted. Then, too, the last time I saw her was the day before I headed for Pluto with the _Orionad_. Because she has been so snippy once before, I gave nebulae to Joan Forbes to pin on, remember?" "That was a cold thing to do," said Kane. "Laura told me not to annoy her until I could give her the insignia of a patrol marshal--when I became sector marshal. So when I was raised last time, I did as she demanded." "Sometimes women don't expect to have their snapped words taken to the letter." "Are you carrying her banner?" asked Guy. "Not exactly. I'm trying to be honest. And I think that Laura Greggor would make a good wife for you." "Why?" "Laura has background, money, friends. She has social standing. Also, I have a feeling that she has been sort of waiting for you. After all, she is a very desirable woman, and I doubt that she has been friendless all these years." "She's twenty-six," said Guy absently. "Maybe you're right. It'll depend upon how she greets me."