She snorted. Then, noticing his furtive movement away from her she yelled, "Harry Lowndes, you come right back here in front of this screen where I can see you. I want to know where you were last night!" He came back, a sheepish grin spread over his face. "I stopped in at Sliman's," he said. Her carmined lips tightened. "Sliman's! All right, Harry Lowndes, how much did you lose?" "Five hundred." Her green eyes flashed. "Lost five hundred!" she screamed. "That five hundred would have bought me a birthday present!" Her voice dropped several octaves. "I'm through, Harry. I'm sending your ring back in the morning." He was shaken. "Sweets, it'll never happen again. I'm paying Sliman off tonight and, believe me, sweets it is the last time." "I mean it, Harry." He groaned. "Judy, please! What of our plans?" "Plans! Did you think I'd marry you on a pitiful one thousand kredits a month?" He was desperate. "Judy, you can't do this. I'll speak to Nestor. I'll get him to increase the allowance." She laughed at him, biting, sarcastic laughter. "Speak to Nestor! You couldn't get Nestor to do anything. He controls _your_ estate. Or didn't you know?" "Judy, please listen. I will--" "Good-bye Harry. Your ring will--" He tried desperately to hold her on the screen, cutting in with, "Judy, it will be only a year or two until Nestor quits operating. Then we will have the estate." She was furious. Her anger, smouldering till now, erupted white-hot. "_You actually expect me to wait for that senile walking adding machine to run down?_" She was raging now, whiplashing him with abuse. "Why, you spineless worm! You cheap excuse for a man! If you were half the man you pretend to be, you'd _make_ that stupid robot quit operating! Good-bye!" * * * * * The impact of her words had stunned him. He walked to the desk, slumped limply, held his head in his hands. Unseeing he stared at the ledgers, the much-thumbed journals. His eyes were bleak. Even now, still reeling under her scorn and smarting under her abuse, he thought of her. Recalled his last glimpse of her, auburn-haired and red-lipped. Flinched at the memory of her green eyes, glittering with rage, boring into him. He groaned, ran his hands through his dark hair, then rose. His face was grim. He walked to the garage, rummaged in the trunk of the little ground scooter, pulled out the three pronged ironite wheel wrench. He carried it back to the study, laid it beside the desk and sat down to wait for Nestor.... The old robot shuffled into the study, his diaphragm tubes pulsing under the strain of the four square trip to Central National. He pulled a thick roll of orange colored kredits from the pocket of his blue-serge coat, and handed it to Lowndes. "There you are, Master," he wheezed.