"No, I'm not. I'm merely trying to make you understand something important to everybody. You come in here and claim by the right of personal interest that we should be most willing to tell you our business. Then in the next breath you defend the installation over on the other side of town for their attitude in giving the bum's rush to people who try to ask questions about their business. Go read your Constitution, Mr. Fisher. It says there that I have as much right to defend my home against intruders as the A.E.C. has to defend their home against spies." "But I'm not intruding." James nodded his head gently. "Not," he said, "until you make the grave error of equating personal privacy with culpable guilt." "I didn't mean that." "You should learn to say what you mean," said James, "instead of trying to pry information out of someone who happens to be fond of you." "Now see here," said Tim Fisher, "I happen to be fond of her too, you know. Doesn't that give me some rights?" "Would you expect to know all of her business if she were your wife?" "Of course." "Suppose she were working in the A.E.C.-College?" "Well, that--er--" "Would be different?" "Well, now--" "I talked this right around in its circle for a purpose," said James. "Stop and think for a moment. Let's discuss me. Mr. Fisher, where would you place me in school?" "Er--how old are you?" "Nine," said James. "In April." "Well, I'm not sure--" "Exactly. Do you suppose that I could sit in a classroom among my nine-year-old contemporaries very long without being found out?" "Er--no--I suppose not." "Mr. Fisher, how long do you think I could remain a secret if I attended high school, sitting at a specially installed desk in a class among teenagers twice my size?" "Not very long." "Then remember that some secrets are so big that you have to have armed guards to keep them secret, and others are so easy to conceal that all you need is a rambling old house and a plausible façade." "Why have you told me all this?" "Because you have penetrated this far by your own effort, justified by your own personal emotions, and driven by an urge that is all-powerful if I am to believe the books I've read on the subject. You are told this much of the truth so that you won't go off half-cocked with a fine collection of rather dangerous untruths. Understand?" "I'm beginning to." "Well, whether Mrs. Bagley accepts your offer of marriage or not, remember one thing: If she were working for the A.E.C. you'd be proud of her, and you'd also be quite careful not to ask questions that would cause her embarrassment." Tim Fisher looked at Mrs. Bagley. "Well?" he asked. Mrs. Bagley looked bleak. "Please don't ask me until I've had a chance to discuss all of the angles with Mr. Maxwell, Tim." "Maxwell, again." "Tim," she said in a quiet voice, "remember--he's an employer, not an emotional involvement."