Ricky nodded. "I have to, Tom. It isn't that I want to bull it through you. But if we don't get a vote on it tonight, then we've given up. Graves has said he has to know, so he can plan; we can't keep it in the air any longer. And I think the clan has a right to vote on the problem." He looked apologetic. Tom sighed. "We seem to have agreed to disagree," he said. "So maybe it's better to get the showdown over with." He got up, walked over to Ricky, and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Let's break clean and come out fighting at the bell." And he walked back inside the house to his room. 2 It was only a short time later that Tom heard the sound of tires on the drive. He went out to find that it was Sandy in the beach-wagon. The name Sandy fitted her, even if it was short for Sandra. Blonde, with something of a tendency to freckle, she had a quick alertness that was almost tomboyish. Almost, but not quite, for she was very much a woman. "Need help?" Tom asked, giving her a quick kiss and moving to the back to start unloading the bundles. "How did you make out?" "Not bad," she said; "In fact, it was fun. I don't know whether it was worth it or not; it's a long drive down there. Maybe I saved enough to pay for the gasoline. But they're more used to dealing with the clans. The stores around here play both sides of the fence. Much more congenial atmosphere down there." Tom could guess what she meant. The clans, buying in semi-quantity for their groups of people, could demand and get preferential treatment of a sort. But a number of the stores that still wanted the business of private individuals--many of whom were bitterly anti-clan--did their best to balance the issue with a lack of courtesy. He looked at the girl with sympathy but she seemed cheerfully unconcerned. She was, he thought, the kind to take that kind of treatment without a murmur of complaint, and without giving any overt recognition to it. And yet she was also the kind to feel it deep inside her. When the car was unloaded, they sat down at the kitchen table to rest a moment. Tom sat back in his chair, eyes brooding. It was not for several minutes that he noticed that Sandy was watching him, her chin on her palms, her elbows on the table. And he knew that she knew he was troubled and was waiting to see if he wanted to talk about it. "Ricky thinks we ought to decide about Marcia, tonight," he said, his voice sounding blunt even to himself. "You mean whether we should take her in or not?" she asked. "Yeah," Tom answered. "He thinks we should, whether she fits or not--just so we can get the contract with Eltron Electric. Because otherwise we would have to pull up stakes and go take that thing at Universal." "And you don't think we should?" she prompted. "No, I don't," he said. "It seems to me like we'd be selling out if we did that. Maybe I'm being a purist about it, but damn it all...."