"_What_ a man!" Belle breathed to herself, behind the solid screens of her room. "He thought I was too tired, not just scared to death too. What a _man_! Belle Bellamy, you ought to be kicked from here to Tellus...." Then she threw back her head, drove a hard little fist into a pillow, and spoke aloud through clenched teeth. "No, damn and blast it, I _won't_ give in. I _won't_ love him. I'll take the Project away from him if it's the last thing I ever do in this life!" * * * She woke up the next morning--not morning, either, since it was well after noon--a little before Garlock did, but not much. When she went into his room he was shaved and fully dressed except for one shoe, which he was putting on. "Hi, boss! Better we eat, huh? Not only am I starving by inches, but if we don't eat pretty quick we'll get only one meal today instead of three. Did you eat your candy bar?" "I sure did, ace." "Oh, I'm still 'ace'? You can kiss me, then," and she raised her face toward his. He kissed her, still tenderly, and they strolled to and through the Main and into the alcove. James and Lola, the latter looking terribly strained and worn, had already eaten, but joined them in their after-breakfast coffee and cigarettes. "You've checked, of course," Garlock said. "Everything on the beam?" "Dead center. Even to Lola and her biologists. Everybody's full of joy and gratitude and stuff--as well as information. And we managed to pry ourselves loose without waking you two trumpet-of-doom sleepers up. So we're ready to jump again. I wonder where in _hell_ we'll wind up _this_ time." "I'm glad you said that, Jim." Garlock said. "It gives me the nerve to spring a thing on you that I've been mulling around in my mind ever since we landed here." "Nerve? You?" James asked, incredulously. "Pass the coffee-pot around again, Brownie. If that character there said what I heard him say, this'll make your hair stand straight up on end." "On our jumps we've had altogether too much power and no control whatever...." Garlock paused in thought. "Like a rookie pitcher," Belle suggested. "Uh-uh," Lola objected. "It _couldn't_ be that wild. He'd have to stand with his back to the plate and pitch the ball over the center-field stands and seven blocks down-town."