"Well," he said. There was a lone little bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, across his frontal ridge and down one cheek. He ignored it bravely, trying to think what to do next. "Well," he repeated at last, in what he hoped was a gentle and fatherly tone. "Well, well, well, well, well." It didn't seem to have any effect. Perhaps, he thought, an attempt to put things back on the teacher-student level might have better results. "You wanted me to see you?" he said in a grave, scholarly tone. Then, gulping briefly, he amended it in a voice that had suddenly grown an octave: "You wanted to see me? I mean, you--" "Oh," Maya Wilson said. "Oh, my goodness, _yes_, Mr. Forrester!" She made a sudden sensuous motion that looked to Forrester as if she had suddenly abolished bones. But it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. Quite the contrary. Forrester licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "Well," he said. "What about, Miss--uh--Miss Wilson?" "Please call me Maya, Mr. Forrester. And I'll call you--" There was a second of hesitation. "Mr. Forrester," Maya said plaintively, "what is your first name?" "First name?" Forrester tried to think of his first name. "You want to know my first name?" "Well," Maya said, "I want to call you something. Because after all--" She looked as if she were going to leap over the desk. "You may call me," Forrester said, grasping at his sanity, "Mr. Forrester." Maya sidled around the desk quietly. "Mr. Forrester," she said, reaching for him, "I wanted to talk to you about the Introductory World History course." Forrester shivered as if someone had thrown cold water on his rising aspirations. "Oh," he said. "That's right," Maya whispered. Her mouth was close to his ear again. Other parts of her were close to other parts of him once more. Forrester found it difficult to concentrate. "I've _got_ to pass the course, Mr. Forrester," Maya whispered. "I've just _got_ to." Somehow, Forrester retained just enough control of his faculties to remember the standard answer to protestations like that one. "Well, I'm sure you will," he said in what he hoped was a calm, hearty, hopeful voice. He was reasonably sure it wasn't any of those, and even surer that it wasn't all three. "You seem like a--like a fairly intelligent young lady," he finished lamely. "Oh, no," she said. "I'm sure I won't be able to remember all those old-fashioned dates and things. Never. Never." Suddenly she pressed herself wildly against him, throwing him slightly off balance. Locked together, the couple reeled against the desk. Forrester felt it digging into the small of his back. "I'll do anything to pass the course, Mr. Forrester!" she vowed. "Anything!"