"Marge asked me to come. I couldn't tell her I was sorry, but her husband wouldn't let me, could I?" "Well, certainly not--" "You want me to keep her happy, don't you? You don't want her to get suspicious." "No, but suppose somebody saw us together! If she ever got a hint--" "I'm sorry," George Prime said contritely. "It seemed the right thing to do. _You_ would have done it. At least that's what my judgment center maintained. We had quite an argument." "Well, tell your judgment center to use a little sense," I snapped. "I don't want it to happen again." The next night, I stayed home, even though it was Tuesday night. I was beginning to get worried. Of course, I did have complete control--I could snap George Prime off any time I wanted, or even take him in for a complete recircuiting--but it seemed a pity. He was doing such a nice job. Marge was docile as a kitten, even more so than before. She sympathized with my hard day at the office and agreed heartily that the boss, despite all appearances, was in reality a jabbering idiot. After dinner, I suggested a movie, but Marge gave me an odd sort of look and said she thought it would be much nicer to spend the evening at home by the fire. I'd just gotten settled with the paper when she came into the living room and sat down beside me. She was wearing some sort of filmy affair I'd never laid eyes on before, and I caught a whiff of my favorite perfume. "Georgie?" she said. "Uh?" "Do you still love me?" I set the paper down and stared at her. "How's that? Of course I still--" "Well, sometimes you don't act much like it." "Mm. I guess I've--uh--got an awful headache tonight." Damn that perfume! "Oh," said Marge. "In fact, I thought I'd turn in early and get some sleep--" "Sleep," said Marge. There was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice. Now I knew that things were out of hand. The next evening, I activated George Prime and caught the taxi at the corner, but I called Ruby and broke my date with her. I took in an early movie alone and was back by ten o'clock. I left the cab at the corner and walked quietly up the path toward the garage. Then I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the living room windows. George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eight long years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactly fighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little, the lights went off. George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right. * * * * * I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as I could, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? I punched the button again, viciously, and waited. George Prime didn't come out. It was plenty cold out in the workshop that night and I didn't sleep a wink. About dawn, out came George Prime, looking like a man with a four-day hangover.