Information about the relation between man and woman had not been included in the course of education devised by his father and mother. Therefore his physical age and his information on the delicate subject were approximately parallel. His personal evaluation of the subject was uncomplicated. At some age not much greater than his own, boys and girls conglomerated in a mass that milled around in a constant state of flux and motion, like individual atoms of gas compressed in a container. Meetings and encounters took place both singly and in groups until nearly everybody had been in touch with almost everybody else. Slowly the amorphous mass changed. Groups became attracted by mutual interests. Changes and exchanges took place, and then a pair-formation began to take place. The pair-formation went through its interchanges both with and without friction as the settling-down process proceeded. At times predictable by comparing it to the statistics of radioactivity, the pair-production resulted in permanent combination, which effectively removed this couple from free circulation. James Holden had no grasp or feeling for the great catalyst that causes this pair-production; he saw it only for its sheer mechanics. To him, the sensible way to go about this matter was to get there early and move fast, because one stands to make a better choice when there is a greater number of unattached specimens from which to choose. Those left over are likely to have flaws. And so he pondered, long after Martha had gone to bed. He was still up and waiting when he heard the car stop at the gate. He watched them come up the walk arm in arm, their stride slow and lingering. They paused for several moments on the doorstep, once there was a short, muted laugh. The snick of the key came next and they came into the hallway. "No, please don't come in," said Mrs. Bagley. "But--" replied the man. "But me no buts. It's late, Tim." Tim? Tim? That would probably be Timothy Fisher. He ran the local garage where Mrs. Bagley bought her car. James went on listening shamelessly. "Late? Phooey. When is eleven-thirty late?" "When it's right now," she replied with a light laugh. "Now, Tim. It's been very--" There came a long silence. Her voice was throaty when the silence broke. "Now, will you go?" "Of course," he said. "Not that way, silly," she said. "The door's behind you." "Isn't the door I want," he chuckled. "We're making enough noise to wake the dead," she complained. "Then let's stop talking," he told her. There was another long silence. "Now please go." "Can I come back tomorrow night?" "Not tomorrow." "Friday?" "Saturday." "It's a date, then." "All right. Now get along with you." "You're cruel and heartless, Janet," he complained. "Sending a man out in that cold and storm." "It isn't storming, and you've a fine heater in that car of yours." "I'd rather have you." "Do you tell that to all the girls?"