For if any icebox were raided, especially the austere icebox of the co-ordinator's presidential home, it would be done _en trio_. Kennebec grinned. He hoped they'd leave some for the nominal ruler of the Solar Combine. The idea of ordering out an aide didn't occur to him; an aide could produce anything at any time, but Kennebec wasn't the type to impose. He'd do his own icebox raiding! But he was not beyond a bit of diplomatic eavesdropping. He'd thought of Pat's problem, too. Twin minds between the men she preferred impartially. That--and he didn't like to consider it--reduced her selection to the sheer animal. He was not euphemistic, nor blind, and he recognized that men and women will be men and women and that physical attraction was a major factor. But he was of an intelligent race, and he knew also that sheer physical attraction without a simultaneous mating of mind usually resulted in trouble. He wondered--which of the pair of worthies had the greater physical attraction for his daughter. So, with no feeling of shame about it, Co-ordinator Kennebec, nominal ruling head of three planets; elected by popular vote; empowered to act by the Solar Combine Congress; commander in chief of all armed forces of three worlds--eavesdropped on his daughter. "Just a keyhole listener," he thought. "I wonder which--" "That was a neat piece of business," Pat laughed. "Was it?" answered her companion. "It was. And you know it. A neat bit of skullduggery." The laugh that followed was very masculine--and there was no mistaking the originator. "May I ask what the idea was?" asked Pat. Billy Thompson's well-modulated voice answered: "Sure, I'll tell you. Do you want it right off the shoulder or will you take it by degrees?" "I can take it," said Patricia. Her tone was light, but under-tones of softness were there. "Can you dish it out?" Kennebec swallowed. Billy Thompson! Whatever he had done, he'd done it well. Kennebec smiled wistfully. Any man who could cut Patricia out of the tight-pack between Lane and Downing was either overly wise or-- "I'm dishing," said Billy. "I've been wondering how it would be to have you all to myself." "Have you found out yet?" asked Patricia lightly. "Not yet--it might take a long time." "It's four o'clock," she told him. "So what?" he said hotly. "If I get a card to this game, it's going to be a hard-held one." "You mean that now I'm confronted with the idea of deciding between three of you?" "Patricia, this is big-league stuff. Sit around and get as egotistical as you want. I don't think you are. I think a lot of your confounded superciliousness is just an act--and I intend to find out!" "An act, Billy?" "Pat, I hope it is. How long has your dad been co-ordinator?" "About seven years." "And you're twenty-four." "Been reading my mail?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I can--and often do--read newsprint." "Oh, you read, too?"