"Come off it, Maxie. Okay. Tell you what. The first outline you sent me about the Kiriki and their habits isn't nearly complete enough. Have that boss of yours dream up a more complete dossier, just for little ole me. I like those Kiriki, they're such smug, heartless devils." "Listen, Starr's hot for them. He'll buy anything glorifying the Kiriki. They're his little dream-babies." "Sure, sure. Here's what you do, Maxie. Get Starr to make me out a complete dossier on them, but complete. You know me. I like to use the little out of the way touches like what color they paint their toenails. I'll give him some stuff that will curl his eyebrows. Okay?" "No more tricks?" "Cross my cast-iron heart." "Okay, Ric. But remember, Ric rhymes with tic." "How's that?" "Never mind." * * * * * The moment Alice walked in my office I knew she was for me. I guess every guy has a girl all built up in his imagination, a girl who is and has everything he likes. Alice Corey was mine. Soft blue eyes, lots of brown wavy hair, a little well-shaped nose, and let's just say the rest of her was well-shaped, too. It was all there, including a lot of hard to define details of speech and manner that were exactly right. Maybe it was chemical, or maybe it just added up to every dream I'd ever had about my ideal girl. "My name is Alice Corey," she said, with soft violins in the background. "I understand you need an editorial secretary." She went on briskly, when I found myself speechless, "I worked two years with Tower Periodicals in London and--" "You're hired," I said. "But those other girls waiting outside?" "Would you please inform them that the job's filled--Alice?" I had to deal with the boss about Alice. He didn't like her. She was too pretty, he thought. Couldn't be efficient. He went over her background with a fine-tooth comb. He found fault with most everything about her. But I stuck to my guns. He had his Kiriki. Alice was mine and I was damned if I would leave her out of my sight. She filled my working hours with golden sunshine and my nights with platinum dreams. What's more, she _was_ efficient. And she would work until twelve the night before a deadline without a murmur. She was diffident about having dinner with me, first, but as time went by we spent many an evening together, strolling in the park listening to the carousel or sipping chocolate sodas at Howard Johnson's. Alice didn't talk much, but she was a good listener. I must have told her everything I had ever thought or done during those evenings. I was in such a sublime spin these days I forgot to worry about Wallace Starr's peculiarities. The questions that had sprouted in my subconscious began to fade. I did what I was told. So, strangely, did Ric Planter. I supplied him with a detailed outline which Starr made up about the Kiriki. That wasn't enough so we sent him another, with even more details.