"You're kind," he said, chuckling. "Too kind! I don't want to hurt his feelings. I wouldn't, for the world! But really--I've never heard a man praised for his vanity before, or admired for being touchy about his dignity! If you're right--why--it's been convenient. It might even mean hope. But--hm ... would you want to marry a man like that?" "Great Manitou forbid!" said Aletha firmly. She grimaced at the bare idea. "I'm an Amerind. I'll want my husband to be contented. I want to be contented along with him. Mr. Bordman will never be either happy or content. No pale-face husband for me! But I don't think he's through here yet. Sending for help won't satisfy him. It's a further hurt to his vanity. He'll be miserable if he doesn't prove himself--to himself--a better man than that!" Chuka shrugged his massive shoulders. Redfeather tracked down the last item he needed and fairly bounced to his feet. "What tonnage of iron can you get out, Chuka?" he demanded. "What can you do in the way of castings? What's the elastic modulus--how much carbon in this iron? And when can you start making castings? Big ones?" "Let's go talk to my foremen," said Chuka. "We'll see how fast my--ah--mineral spring is trickling metal down the cliff face. If you can really launch a lifeboat, we might get some help here in a year and a half instead of five...." They went out-of-doors together. There was a small sound in the next office. Aletha was suddenly very still. She sat motionless for a long half minute. Then she turned her head. "I owe you an apology, Mr. Bordman," she said ruefully. "It won't take back the discourtesy, but--I'm very sorry." Bordman came into the office from the next room. He was rather pale. He said wrily: "Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, eh?--Actually I was on the way in here when I heard--references to myself. It would embarrass Chuka and your cousin to know I heard. So I stopped. Not to listen, but to keep them from knowing I'd heard their private opinions of me. I'll be obliged if you don't tell them. They're entitled to their opinions of me. I've mine of them." He added, "Apparently I think more highly of them than they do of me!" "It must have sounded horrible!" Aletha said. "But they--we--all of us think better of you than you do of yourself!" Bordman shrugged. "You in particular. Would you marry someone like me? Great Manitou, no!" "For an excellent reason," said Aletha. "When I get back from here--_if_ I get back from here--I'm going to marry Bob Running Antelope. He's nice. I like the idea of marrying him. But I look forward not only to happiness but to contentment. To me that's important. It isn't to you, or to the woman you ought to marry. And I--well--I simply don't envy either of you a bit."