Davis looked uninterestedly, but in a moment even his gloom was lightened by the interest of the sight he saw. The enlargement of the microscope was so great that only a few of the tiny animals were visible, but each of them was clearly and brilliantly outlined. They were little jellylike creatures, roughly spherical in shape, with their bodies protected by almost infinitely thin, silicious shells that possessed a silvery luster. From dozens of holes in the fragile shells protruded fat, jellylike tentacles that waved and moved restlessly, forever in search of food. Under the microscope the shells were partly transparent, and within the jellylike body inside the shell could be seen a single dark spot. "That blotch in their shells seems to be the nucleus, or else their stomach. I can't quite make out if they're one-celled animals like am[oe]bæ, or if they're really complex creatures." "Rum little beggars," said Davis without removing his gaze from the eyepiece. "They're separate animals, anyway. Odd that they should make a jellylike mass." "Move the slide about a little," suggested Gerrod. "You'll see how they do that. You're looking at individuals now. Sometimes--and I think it's when food gets scarce--they twine their tentacles together and the tentacles actually seem to join, as if they were welded into one. In fact, as far as nourishment goes, they do seem to become a single organism. That's when they're so noticeably jellylike." Davis watched them curiously for a few moments, and then straightened up. He moved restlessly about the room. "The funny thing," said Gerrod cheerfully, ignoring Davis' evident gloom, "is that they seem to be able to move about. See this test tube? They've climbed up the sides of the glass until they almost reach the top." "I know," said Davis uninterestedly. "When we took the crew off that yacht, they showed us where the jellylike mass seemed to be slowly creeping up the sides of the ship. Looked like exaggerated capillary action." Gerrod listened with a thoughtful frown. "I wonder----" he began, but Davis turned to him suddenly. "Look here, Teddy, I'm in a mess. I want your advice." Gerrod put down his test tubes and sat on one of the tables in the laboratory, swinging his legs and preparing to be properly sympathetic with Davis' plight, which he already knew perfectly well. "Go ahead." "It's like this," said Davis reluctantly. "I liked Nita tremendously the first time I saw her, and she seemed to like me, too. I called on her, and she seemed to like me better. And I kept on calling. I must have pretty well infested her house, but she didn't seem to mind it, you know----" Gerrod nodded sympathetically. "I know." "Well," said Davis savagely, "I found out I was pretty badly gone on her, and last week I was just getting up the nerve to propose--and I _know_ she wouldn't have been displeased--when that infernal father of hers began to interfere."