Halvorsen drank some milk and ate some bread. He thought of the change from the ten dollars in his pocket and decided not to mention it. Then he remembered that the doctor had gone through his pockets. "I can pay you for this," he said. "It's very kind of you, but you mustn't think I'm penniless. I've just been too preoccupied to take care of myself." "Sure," said the girl. "But we can call this an advance. I want to sign up for some classes." "Be happy to have you." "Am I bothering you?" asked the girl. "You said something odd when you fainted--'Orpheus.'" "Did I say that? I must have been thinking of Milles' Orpheus Fountain in Copenhagen. I've seen photos, but I've never been there." "Germany? But there's nothing left of Germany." "Copenhagen's in Denmark. There's quite a lot of Denmark left. It was only on the fringes. Heavily radiated, but still there." "I want to travel, too," she said. "I work at La Guardia and I've never been off, except for an orbiting excursion. I want to go to the Moon on my vacation. They give us a bonus in travel vouchers. It must be wonderful dancing under the low gravity." Spaceport? Off? Low gravity? Terms belonging to the detested electronic world of the stereopantograph in which he had no place. "Be very interesting," he said, closing his eyes to conceal disgust. "I _am_ bothering you. I'll go away now, but I'll be back Tuesday night for the class. What time do I come and what should I bring?" "Eight. It's charcoal--I sell you the sticks and paper. Just bring a smock." "All right. And I want to take the oils class, too. And I want to bring some people I know to see your work. I'm sure they'll see something they like. Austin Malone's in from Venus--he's a special friend of mine." "Lucretia," he said. "Or do some people call you Lucy?" "Lucy." "Will you take that little bronze you liked? As a thank you?" "I can't do that!" "Please. I'd feel much better about this. I really mean it." She nodded abruptly, flushing, and almost ran from the room. _Now why did I do that?_ he asked himself. He hoped it was because he liked Lucy Grumman very much. He hoped it wasn't a cold-blooded investment of a piece of sculpture that would never be sold, anyway, just to make sure she'd be back with class fees and more groceries. III She was back on Tuesday, a half-hour early and carrying a smock. He introduced her formally to the others as they arrived: a dozen or so bored young women who, he suspected, talked a great deal about their art lessons outside, but in class used any excuse to stop sketching. He didn't dare show Lucy any particular consideration. There were fierce little miniature cliques in the class. Halvorsen knew they laughed at him and his line among themselves, and yet, strangely, were fiercely jealous of their seniority and right to individual attention.