John stood at the foot of the escalator, a reluctant witness to the bickering. Divining his attitude Philon mentally shrugged it off. The kid might as well learn what married life was like in these modern days. "You got the book, eh?" John pulled a book from his suit coat and laid it on a small table. "Yes, there's the book--and I never felt so rotten about anything in all my life!" Philon said, "Kid, you've got a lot to learn about getting along in this world." "All right--so I've got a lot to learn," John cried bitterly. "But there must be more to life than trying to stop the other guy from stripping the shirt off your back while you succeed in stripping off his!" With that he took the escalator to the upper hall while Philon watched him disappear. Left alone now, Philon settled into a chair by a window and stared down the street at the MacDonald house. Odd people--it almost seemed they didn't belong in this time and period, considering their queer ways of thinking and looking at things. MacDonald himself in particular had some odd personal attitudes. Like that incident in his basement--Philon had curiously pulled open a heavy steel door to a small cubicle filled with a most complex arrangement of large coils and heavy insulators and glassed-in filaments. MacDonald was almost rude in closing the door when he found Philon opening it. He had fumbled and stuttered around, explaining the room was a niche where he did a little experimenting on his own. Yes, strange people. The next day Philon eagerly hastened to a bookstore dealing in antique editions. Hugging the book closely Philon told himself his troubles were all over. The book would surely bring between fifty and a hundred grand. A clerk approached. "Can I help you?" "I want to talk to Mr. Norton himself." The clerk spoke into a wrist transmitter. "Mr. Norton, a man to see you." In a few moments a bulbous man came heavily down the aisle, peering through dark tinted glasses at Philon. "Yes?" "I have a very rare first edition of Smyth's _Atomic Energy_," said Philon, showing the book. Norton adjusted his glasses, then took the book. He carefully handled it, looking over the outside of the covers, then thumbed the pages. After a long frowning moment, he said, "Publication date is nineteen forty-six but the book's fairly new. Must have been kept hermetically sealed in helium for a good many years." "Yeah, yeah, it was," Philon said matter-of-factly. "Came from my paternal grandfather's side of the family. A book like this ought to be worth at the very least seventy-five thousand." But the bulbous Mr. Norton was not impressed. He shrugged vaguely. "Well--it's just possible--" He looked up at Philon suddenly. "Before I make any offer to you I shall have to radiocarbon date the book. Are you willing to sacrifice a back flyleaf in the process?" "Why a flyleaf?"