"So there is just the question of whether we want to do it, or not," she said. He nodded but said nothing. "And you would much rather we didn't want to.... Tell me, what's she like? I've only seen her the couple of times that Ricky's brought her to lunch." "That's about all I have," Tom answered. "Oh, I've seen her out at her old man's place a couple of times, too, but then I was working on the old man. As far as I know, she is what she seems to be. Beautiful in a way. A bit of a mantrap. Probably spoiled. I don't know. What did you think of her?" "That's a damning sketch if I ever heard one," Sandy said. "I wonder if that's all there is to her. Is she just a spoiled brat with a well-developed body? Is that all she is? What's her background like? I mean aside from money?" "Background?" Tom hesitated. "Well, she went through college, somewheres or other. She's traveled in Europe a bit Generally circulated around. Cultured, I guess you'd call it. "Certainly her old man knows what it's about. He's quite a character, you know. Very dignified, very polished. Fine oak paneling in his study. Lots of books, and he's probably read them, too. Quite a collection of classical music, and he knows his way around it too--at least he knows more about it than I do. The very picture of a cultured gentleman. And it is with a perfectly gentlemanly manner that he tears you apart into little pieces." "Oh?" Sandy raised her eyebrow. "What happened?" Tom smiled ruefully; "We had an argument." He shrugged. "The clans versus Free-Trading. He has a fine and delicate hand with sarcasm. No, I take that back. I don't know whether it was sarcasm or not; maybe he was just leading me out. Anyway, I came out of there feeling as if I'd been wrung dry." He was silent a moment, and Sandy made no move to break his thoughts. "The logical question here, of course, is to what extent this makes me think the way I do. And maybe it does, I don't know. I'm afraid of the guy; I got the feeling he knows exactly what he's doing and why. And I think he may be too strong for us." "You think we might end up as his puppets?" Sandy said, her voice neutral. "Something like that," Tom admitted. "Oh, I know that's probably a foolish thought. In fact, now that I look at it, I know it is. The guy just impressed me; frankly I came out feeling somewhat awed by him. I'm not used to the feeling. I guess it's just that he comes from a background that I don't know anything about." Sandy pursed her lips and nodded. There was a pixyish gleam to her eyes as she got up and started towards the door. As she left she asked him: "And Marcia, is she anything like her old man?" She was out the door and gone before he realized what her question meant. He sat there, staring after her for five full minutes before he got up and started to put the food away. 3