"Oh, I cannot do that," she replied, "but a chat In a quieter spot--?" And she led Dougal out of the blare to a cool garden square With the stars burning high overhead. She gave orders by sign that a beaker of wine Be served in their shady retreat, And wondered how long it would be ere this strong, Handsome stranger acknowledged defeat. But strangest to tell, it was Doug and not Nell Who emerged from that contest the victor. It was nothing he did, but a loneliness hid In her bosom that finally tricked her. For Doug spoke of the night, and the glorious flight Of ships through the reaches of Space; Of his hopes and his schemes--and his words wakened dreams That softened the lines of Nell's face. III He was just on the verge of confessing the urge That brought him back out of the void When a servant discreet appeared in their retreat And Nell faced the fellow, annoyed. "Well?" she icily said. The man bobbed his head. "A visiphone call on the rack." Nell sighed as she rose. "Some friend, I suppose. Wait, Dougal; I'll hurry right back." An expression surprisingly soft in her eyes, She answered the visiphone. Her caller, however (the cradle-monk), never Detected her altered tone. "Hey, Nell, there's a chump on his way to your dump, A big, quiet sort of a lout By name of MacNeer--" Nell told him, "He's here; What's all the commotion about?" A hungry grimace of greed mottled the face of The vengeful space-harbor assistant. "Do I get my percent for a tip on the gent?" He parried in accents insistent. "You mean--?" whispered Nell. And, "Surer than hell!" The answer came back, swift and eager, "I've just seen his log, and he's in from the Bog With a claim-stake the size of Omega!" Now, for those who don't know their A. L. & O.[3] The "Bog" is a treacherous sector Of planetoids legion, a tightly-packed region Avoided by every prospector. None but the most daring do any space-faring In those lethal, whirlagig niches, But spacemen all claim that the Bog is aflame With infinite, fabulous riches. 'Twas thence that the crew of the L-32 Returned with a cargo of ore That assayed ninety-one and a half to the ton --Or maybe a little bit more. It was out of the Bog that old space-weasel Scrogg Withdrew on his gravity-tractor The rock 4-Omega, which brought such a figure Scrogg set himself up as a Factor.