Polly, on Orne's right, looked younger and softer in a green stola gown that hazed her barrel contours. Bullone, across from her, wore black lounging shorts and knee-length _kubi_ jacket of golden pearl cloth. Everything about the people and setting reeked of wealth, power. For a moment, Orne saw that Stetson's suspicions could have basis in fact. Bullone might go to any lengths to maintain this luxury. Orne's entrance had interrupted an argument between Polly and her husband. They welcomed him, went right on without inhibition. Rather than embarrassing him, this made him feel more at home, more accepted. [Illustration] "But I'm not running for office this time," said Bullone patiently. "Why do we have to clutter up the evening with that many people just to--" "Our election night parties are traditional," said Polly. "Well, I'd just like to relax quietly at home tomorrow," he said. "Take it easy with just the family here and not have to--" "It's not like it was a _big_ party," said Polly. "I've kept the list to fifty." Diana straightened, said: "This is an important election Daddy! How could you _possibly_ relax? There're seventy-three seats in question ... the whole balance. If things go wrong in just the Alkes sector ... why ... you could be sent back to the floor. You'd lose your job as ... why ... someone else could take over as--" "Welcome to the job," said Bullone. "It's a headache." He grinned at Orne. "Sorry to burden you with this, m'boy, but the women of this family run me ragged. I guess from what I hear that you've had a pretty busy day, too." He smiled paternally at Diana. "And your first day out of the hospital." "She sets quite a pace, but I've enjoyed it," said Orne. "We're taking the small flitter for a tour of the wilderness area tomorrow," said Diana. "Lew can relax all the way. I'll do the driving." "Be sure you're back in plenty of time for the party," said Polly. "Can't have--" She broke off at a low bell from the alcove behind her. "That'll be for me. Excuse me, please ... no, don't get up." * * * * * Orne bent to his dinner as it came out of the bubble slot beside his plate: meat in an exotic sauce, _Sirik_ champagne, _paloika au semil_ ... more luxury. Presently, Polly returned, resumed her seat. "Anything important?" asked Bullone. "Only a cancellation for tomorrow night. Professor Wingard is ill." "I'd just as soon it was cancelled down to the four of us," said Bullone. _Unless this is a pose, this doesn't sound like a man who wants to grab more power_, thought Orne. "Scottie, you should take more pride in your office!" snapped Polly. "You're an important man." "If it weren't for you, I'd be a nobody and prefer it," said Bullone. He grinned at Orne. "I'm a political idiot compared to my wife. Never saw anyone who could call the turn like she does. Runs in her family. Her mother was the same way."