Fillmore was almost on the point of opening his eyes. But he determined to stick to the conventions, because if he gave her any encouragement she might, he knew, try to get chummy with his mind, and that would lead to complications. "Mr. Fillmore wants to shake hands with you," the bald man explained. "Then you pass it along to me." "But why doesn't he shake hands with you?" she asked in high C. The bald man shook his head. "You wouldn't understand about that. But it has something to do with the voltage. Men's voltage multiply, whereas a man and a woman's voltage merely add. If we shook hands we'd burn our brains out. But if you and he shake hands it will merely stimulate you two physically. Nothing dangerous about it." "It seems immoral," she said. "I hadn't thought of it that way," the bald man admitted. "But history reveals that men and women even went further than that centuries ago, and never thought anything about it." The woman coyly lowered her eyes. "If he shakes hands with me," she said softly, "he really should marry me." "Why?" "Because I'd probably have a dozen children before tomorrow night." "Good Lord!" the bald man exclaimed. "That's right. Have you thought about that, Fillmore?" "No," Fillmore said. "My mind has been turned off for some time. But the hypothesis is reasonable. I'll have to figure out something." "Not here." "I've got to. Hold on to your chairs for a moment. I'm going to turn my mind on. Get ready for the shock." "Not the fourteen power. Don't go over eight or nine." "Think I'm a fool? I'll keep it down to seven power. Brace yourself, young lady. This is going to be a shock." * * * * * There was a moment of still silence, then the heat in the room began gradually to rise. In another moment the three blonde hairs were sticking straight up on Fillmore's head and waves of thought were washing about the room in an endless rising tide. The walls creaked and strained and the ceiling sighed upward elastically, giving as it was intended, and a thin gray haze obscured the natural light which was reflected from outside by means of a force field. Fillmore put a cigarette into his mouth, concentrated on the tip of it until it flared into flame, then resumed thinking for a total of two seconds. "I have it," he said at last. "I'll pull out a strand of my hair, seal it in a ten-ton safe and ship it to Cynthia by armored tube. That is the greatest expression of love any man can possibly make." "But," the woman broke in, "that is too much. I'm sure she would be satisfied with less." "No." Fillmore shook his head. "The people of my clan are noted for their courage and chivalry. Should I choose to make the supreme sacrifice for my beloved, who is there to stop me? Call in the reporters. We'll make the announcement right now. My Cynthia shall be honored above women." "It's beautiful," the woman sighed. "To be loved like that is something every woman dreams of."