“Oh?” Randy’s lips tightened. “Is that why you’re going to marry her?” * * * * * At the moment he hated Soleri, empathy or not. If it had been at all possible he would have dropped the pretense. But he couldn’t--and he had to depend solely on his abnormal sensitivity. He told Randy what she _wanted_ to hear. “You know how it is,” he said blandly. “I’ve got to get that motor built. It’s costing far more than we expected. Somebody’s got to play company politics.” She seemed a trifle mollified. “You needn’t tell me. I’ve had a thorough grounding in business psychology.” She moved quickly past him. “Dinner’s ready,” she said. “You’ve got to build up your strength--for company politics.” He would have preferred silence but Randy insisted on holding up both ends of the conversation. Nothing important was discussed, but it gave him a chance to break down her defenses, and get to know her better. After dinner they sat over a drink, and talked. Much of his empathy was tied up in the difficult task of simply duplicating Soleri. He couldn’t get through to her with the accuracy he would have liked. But he did succeed in turning the conversation from Eleanor. She was willing. After the first flash of hatred she was completely willing to forget the girl existed. She looked at the clock. “Time for bed,” she said. It was awkward. He started to get up, avoiding her eyes. “I guess so,” he said, letting her assist him, thrilled by her nearness. There was nothing else he could do. She was attractive and he wanted her for himself. But she was desperately and unhappily in love with Soleri. He couldn’t let her know. “Randy,” he whispered softly as she clung to him. Laura seemed suddenly unreal and very far away, and he wished he’d never heard of Eleanor. Later he awakened to find her lying beside him, tense and still. She hadn’t been sleeping. In a surge of apprehension he wondered if she had discovered the truth about him. “Is anything the matter?” he asked. “Nothing.” “Nothing? Is that why you’re not sleeping?” “Well, there is. I was thinking,” she said. “It was what I saw when I ran into the office right after the explosion. The smoke was very thick and you were lying behind what was left of the desk. For an instant I wondered which one of you had died.” “How could you tell?” he said. “I was badly burned. My face--” “Your eyes are brown,” she said. “Brown. Anyway I knew. You _couldn’t_ die.” “Try to forget about it,” he said. “That nightmare is over. I’m alive.” “And so is Eleanor.” He sighed, wishing again that he could tell her everything. But Soleri would never deny the romance-shattering reality that stood between them. “You’ve always known about her.” “So I have.” She moved closer to him. “I’m content with this brief dream of happiness.” That was better. He caressed her lightly, tenderly. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “Nothing has changed between us.”