The hour from nine to ten seemed interminably long. He found it almost impossible to concentrate on such an unimportant subject as the application of tensor analysis to electronic circuits. Ten o'clock came. He hurried to the parking lot and got in his car. It was real and comforting. But once again everything outside the windshield seemed too sharply defined. He timed himself on the way across town to the publishing house. He would have to allow himself the same time to return for his eleven o'clock class. It took twelve minutes, plus another two to find a parking place. Two minutes from the car to the eleventh floor. He was frowning at his watch as he entered the publisher's office. "Well, well, Dr. Grant! Glad to see you. I suppose you're anxious to see your book ready for market. It's coming very well. Just came back from the typesetters and is going into its first printing right away." "Huh?" Martin said, completing his mental arithmetic and jerking into an awareness of his surroundings. "Oh, hello Mr. Browne," he said. "I was just figuring my time. I have an eleven o'clock class. I can only stay twenty-seven minutes. That gives me a three minute margin of error for traffic delays." "I see," the publisher said, a twinkle in his eye. "As I was just saying, your book--" "Oh yes, my book," Martin interrupted. "Just a minute." He took out his billfold and extracted the check, handing it to Mr. Browne. "What's this for?" Mr. Browne asked, unfolding it. "Oh, the advance royalty check. Is something wrong with it?" "I'm returning it," Martin said. "I can't let you publish my book." "Can't let me publish it!" Browne exclaimed. "Why not? Don't tell me it infringes on someone else's copyright!" "No. Nothing like that. I've merely decided I don't want it published. I'm returning your check." "Well now, look!" Browne said. "We're a business establishment. You signed a contract. We signed one too. It protects both of us against just this sort of thing, you know." He studied Martin thoughtfully. "Sit down and relax," he invited. "I'm human. Tell me why you don't want it published. Maybe I might agree with you. We have over a thousand dollars tied up already in typesetting, but--" Martin took the seat and glanced nervously at his watch to make sure the twenty-seven minutes hadn't elapsed. "I've just changed my mind," he said curtly. "There are certain things--I'm the head of a department, you know. I must watch my reputation. That's it, my reputation. On due reflection I believe the book might hurt my standing." "In what way?" Browne asked. "To tell you the truth, your other book did so well I didn't bother reading this one."