What if he got so dull they never even argued about anything? She shivered at the thought--but then she smiled. And for the next hour Janet lay under the soothing massage and gave herself up to the delightful new pleasure of worrying. * * * * * When Les returned, shadowing the terrace in his descent like some portentous bird, Janet began to shake. Without even waiting to kiss him, she said, "How was it? How did you do?" Les grinned teasingly. "Help me moult, first," he said. "I'm tired." Unable to get anything else out of him until it was done, she tore his wings off damagingly, kissed him, and said, "_Now_ won't you say something?" "I'm hungry!" "No!" She danced her impatience like a little girl. "Tell me!" But even as she pouted, her eyes sparkled in anticipation. "I start tomorrow," he said. "Did you get the best job?" "Nope. No, I really didn't." "What, then?" "Second best!" "Oh, wonderful! What is it?" "Rigger and high-climber--topping trees, setting structural iron, fixing flag-poles--that sort of thing. Powderman was first." "Oh, rigger's wonderful!" Visions of his future work flashed across her mind, implanted there by childhood hours spent watching other members of this elite profession at their thrilling work. She knew there could be broken cables, falling pulleys, snapped booms, dropped loads--every day would have its interesting possibilities! "My darling!" She threw her arms around him and was momentarily silenced by his kiss. Then she stepped back, looked admiringly up at him, and said, "Oh, I'm so happy for you! And so proud! I'm going right in and order up a nice big meal. I know you'll enjoy this one--it really _might_ be your last!"