"Sure," said the girl. "For the Brain. People might confer." * * * * * Lloyd shrugged and gave up. "I can see there's no dissuading you," he said regretfully. "I only hope that when you're finally caught--" "They teach me the error of my ways?" she smiled tightly. "I don't mean it with the inflection _you_ give it," he said. "I really would like to see you get help. You need help, you know." "The kind I need is the kind you gave me in The Temple," she said. "Illegal help. Shelter. Time to make plans. Time to figure out some way of telling the Hive what's happening to it!" "You know I've gone farther than I should, already." "I know," she said. She took the Voteplate from her handbag, and held it musingly in her fingers. "I really should keep this," she said, then saw the sudden anxiety in his eyes and relented. "Here, take it." She slid it under his hand. Lloyd palmed it gratefully. "Our movement could use a hammerlock on a higher-up," she said, almost wistfully. "But you're too nice a guy to put the screws on. It'd be a cruel way to show my gratitude for what you did tonight." "I did nothing, really," Lloyd said. "I simply saw how fearful you were of the hospital, and didn't have the heart to turn you in." "Wait," said the girl. Lloyd stopped speaking. She looked thoughtful, then leaned forward, very confidentially, and asked, "Does your father like you? Do you two get along?" "What is this?" Lloyd demanded suspiciously. "Instant psychoanalysis?" "Nothing like that," the girl snapped, exasperated. "I mean, does he _like_ you, as a son, care what _happens_ to you?" "Well," Lloyd said, slowly, "he'd probably beat my head in for what I pulled, tonight, with you.... But--yes, he does like me. And he cares about my welfare." "Then do this one favor for me," said the girl. "When you get to your Unit tonight, tell him you feel rotten, all sick inside, and that you think you should be hospitalized." "But why should I--?" "Just tell him. And make it convincing. And, if he really cares about you--See what happens." She rose from her place. "It'll look funny if I leave alone. Walk me to the street?" Once outside, she glanced about, uneasily. "It's after ten. Got to find a place to hide before Ultrablack." "But listen--!" Lloyd said, abruptly realizing the grim night that lay in store for her, with blinding blackness like a palpable pall in the streets, and only Goons rolling through the empty streets. "You've got to have _someplace_ to go!" "_Is_ there someplace? Without a Voteplate?" she said with weary rhetoric. "I think not. Thanks. Goodnight. And goodbye." * * * * * She started off down the street. Lloyd hesitated a moment then rushed after her. "Wait, _I'll_ hide you." "Why should you take such a risk, for me?" she said.