That next day, Baldy and I made charts in regular military fashion, outlining our exact plan of campaign. We didn’t see Porky or Lisbeth that afternoon, or evening. They had wanted to have dinner together again, but had promised faithfully to report at my study by eleven p.m. They came, right on the dot. And they were both beaming. “Well,” I said. “Here you are. That’s fine. And you look in good shape for a swell night’s work, Porky.” “Yes, sir,” Porky agreed. “I’m all right. But you see, sir--there’s--er--something we want to tell you.” That “sir” sounded sort of queer, but I admit I didn’t get the idea. “He loves me and I love him and so it’s all settled,” Lisbeth said. I saw that Baldy looked startled. What I looked like I don’t know. “What’s all settled?” I demanded. “Us--er--we’re engaged,” Porky stammered. “That is--” “It absolutely is,” Lisbeth beamed. “He loves me and I love him. Definitely.” To say that I was nonplussed would be putting it mildly. But I have always prided myself on having a true sense of values. What’s the problem of a daughter compared to the problem of winning the war? Nothing. Nothing at all. “Well, we’ll talk about that later,” I decided firmly. “Right now we’ve got a war on our hands. Come on, let’s get going.” But Porky didn’t look at all as thought he were ready to start. “Well,” he said, “that’s another thing I--er--have to tell you.” He looked very pleased. “I haven’t got it any more. I’ve lost it.” Baldy came to life. “What’s _that_ mean?” he demanded. “What in the devil haven’t you got any more? What have you lost?” “My--my gift--that’s what you called it,” Porky said. “It’s gone. Vanished. I can’t do it any more. I tried--honest I did--but it’s gone.” Lisbeth made an expressive gesture like one who wants to indicate that a fairy has just flown out the window. “He tried,” she said. “He really did.” “I’m no coward,” Porky added. “Didn’t I do fine last night? But it’s gone--I’m quite normal now.” He said that last with a very evident relish. “Because now your soul and heart and ego and such are all tied up with Lisbeth,” Baldy said sarcastically. “That’s it,” Lisbeth retorted. “And you don’t need to be sarcastic about it. He and I figured it all out--why would his ego want to roam abroad when it’s in my keeping--forever?” She and Porky were holding onto each other’s hands and gazing with that dying calf look. “He belongs to me now,” Lisbeth added. “His ego doesn’t want to go adventuring. Besides, if it did, I wouldn’t let it.” And there you are. I’m sorry about not being personally able to win the war, but you can see, there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. [Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 1943 issue of _Science Fiction Stories_.]