"Not you," she said. "You're younger than I am. And not Dr. Joel--he's at least ten years older." She paused, stared at me and then went on. "Because this marriage is one of convenience--a propaganda wedding to satisfy propriety--we ought to be convincing. Bill Drake is the pin-up boy to millions of panting secretaries and shopgirls who see his picture in newspapers and on television. Would this public believe in a marriage between us? I think so. For no one could possibly imagine I could resist such a prize." She paused and waited for comments. None came. Five astronauts, including Dr. Spartan, sat tensely waiting for her inevitable decision. "Believe me," Gail went on, "I could resist this handsome young astronaut very well. He's somewhat conceited, you know, and he is too much aware that he's the answer to a maiden's prayer. But millions of man-hungry women wouldn't see it that way. I'm not panting over Bill Drake, and that's why he's the logical choice. It'll look like a love match and who'll know the difference?" She paused once more, then turned to me. "Forgive the insults, Bill. Will you marry me? Or do you want to back out?" It was the first time she had ever called me Bill without adding my last name. I sat there for a moment, somewhat dazed by the outcome. Should I take her in my arms and kiss her tenderly, passionately? Hardly. My ears still burned from her statement that I considered myself the answer to a maiden's prayer, and that I was a conceited pin-up boy. Considering her attitude, should I back out? Or should I cold-bloodedly allow her the use of my last name for the sake of science? My male ego told me she cared a little, secretly, or at the very least, would learn to care before Operation Jehad ended. I began to feel happy about the whole deal. Dr. Spartan's voice came through my thoughts. "You're not acting very enthusiastic, Drake." "I was thinking of the conditions," I said. "I won't sue for breach of promise if you want to back out," said Gail. That decided me. "When's the wedding?" I asked. As I spoke, Joel and Morrie looked at me with ill-concealed disappointment. They'd hoped, down to the wire, that something would happen which would turn the scales in their favor. Even now, I noticed that Morrie hadn't quite given up. He turned his eyes toward Gail. You could practically see him hoping that, in reality, it would turn out to be a marriage in name only, that he'd have a chance to win her before we returned. "Just before the lift-off," said Gail. "Humph," said Dr. Spartan. "That settles it, I suppose." He didn't like it, but he couldn't back out now. He turned his eyes toward me. They were full of hatred. _Chapter 3_