"What do you mean 'so'? What would any red blooded woman do? I moved out and into his bedroom, naturally." "And then started taking his medication?" asked Scholar Ross curtly. "Natch!" "Oh, my God!" exploded Scholar Ross. He eyed Gloria intently. "How do you manage to get Bertram awake far enough to attend things like your costume ball?" he asked. "Well," she said with a smile, "I am really strong enough to sling a hundred and eighty-five pounds of loosely-stuffed sausage over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and tote the inert mass back to its own bedroom so that its own music will rouse it enough to reach for its bedside bottles of medication. Nature then takes its course until the awakening. Then he goes along with my desires--because he knows that if he doesn't, I won't let him dive back into his complete inertia. It's very simple. Of course, it isn't much fun." * * * * * Scholar Ross said, "Gloria, do you intend to continue this sort of self-centered, artificial life after you and Bertram are married?" "I've given the future very little thought." "You always have," said Scholar Ross unhappily. "That's been a lot of your trouble." "So what am I supposed to do? Do you really expect me to marry that vegetable? I've got a life to lead too, you know. It may suit your overall program of genetics to breed a batch of normal children, but the same Book of Laws grants me the right to seek my own level of happiness." "Granted--" "Well, scholar, I can tell you that my idea of happiness is not a husband who comes into my bedroom walking like a somnambulist just barely able to cross the room before collapsing like a loosely-packed sandbag." "What you need," said Scholar Ross firmly, "is a man who is strong enough to tell you what you're going to do." "And where are you going to find one?" Scholar Ross turned from Gloria to her parents. "Obviously," he said regretfully, "this proposed marriage between your daughter and Bertram Harrison is not going to culminate in a happy union." "Did you expect it to?" asked Gloria. "I had hopes. I can only propose a course of action. Were you willing to embark upon your prescribed program of corrective therapy, and so become a normally active and emotionally stable woman, then the marriage might work out very well indeed." "It's all my fault, of course?" "Yes. Of course. The decision was yours to make." "And how about that lump of lard you've foisted off on me?" "Bertram Harrison's willing retreat into total lethargy is, of course, his own decision. But it, too, is only another aspect of the usual case. The strong-willed personality makes its own way. The weak one follows." "I see," sneered Gloria. "It's all my fault!" "Of course it is," snapped Scholar Ross. "Were you willing to correct yourself, you'd also have been willing to correct Bertram since yours is the stronger personality." "So what's the next move? Do I get to try another dolt?"