Gladys laughed and the irate Mrs. Wright, sweeping close to Gladys' orbit at perihelion, made a vicious swipe which neatly tore away a considerable portion of the upper part of Gladys' sunsuit, which portion went fluttering away on a bat-like trajectory of its own. I forgot the portion; the point of departure was more absorbing. Helene gasped and told me to concentrate on getting us down; but my powers of concentration were rather difficult to influence since I was in a fixed orbit and, like Mercury or old Luna, my face was turned inward and Gladys' orbit was now considerably tighter than mine. "Well, do something, will you!" Helene cried. "At least, stop leering!" Now I'm a reasonable man even when befuddled by null-grav, so I tried to forget about orbiting hemispheres and to attack the problem of reaching terra firma. I closed my eyes, but promptly became so unoriented that I almost became ill; so I opened them again and concentrated on my primary, the sun-chandelier. The visio had stopped buzzing. I hoped that meant that Jim O'Brien--if it had been Jim--had figured that something was amiss and was now hurrying over in his Caddicopter. He could throw us a line and haul us out. Then I threw that hope away. Jim's severely practical; and this _was_ to have been my wedding night. Oh, well.... * * * * * Could one of us somehow reach the sun-chandelier and short it, thereby shorting the machine downstairs? Mentally reconstructing the house's electrical circuitry, I concluded that my lab was on a separate circuit. _Hey! I am confused_, I thought. Helene's handbag! I'd thought of it before. Of course! Women carry all sorts of things. "Helene," I said, "do you have a squeeze bottle in your bag? Perfume or hair spray or deodorant, maybe?" "Bill Wright, if you think for one minute that I'm going to--" "Have you?" I cut in. She spluttered. "Perfume," she finally said grudgingly. "Though with that eau-de-whatever Gladys is wearing, I should think--" "Oh, stop it! Now will you please get the perfume out!" She did; then she went wandering off to aphelion in her orbit and momentarily out of my line of sight. When she came back toward perihelion with the chandelier, I said, "Now, look, wriggle around a little axially if you can--" That did it. Helene exploded into a verbal nova. "You lecherous beast!" she cried. "It isn't enough for you to dally with this shameless blonde hussy on our wedding night. Not enough for you to float along looking like a blissful ogling ogre, making mental mockery of your wedding vows. No, you--you BEM!--you have to ask your meek and retiring, your quiet and unassuming, your defenseless and self-effacing wife to act like a bumping and grinding burlesque queen!" And my meek, retiring, quiet, unassuming, etc., wife went on etcetera-ing ad practically infinitum.