He knew that she knew he liked the light touch. And he also knew that she attempted to achieve it, for his sake, although her own nature was to be on the overly earnest side.

She said brightly, making an amusing gesture with her champagne cocktail, “That’s exactly why I’m here. To get a bit of C₂H₅OH into my blood stream before I have to take over drilling knowledge and ethics into the little monsters.”

“What’s C₂H₅OH?” he asked her.

“Alcohol,” she told him. “Hmmm, the great columnist doesn’t seem to be up on his chemistry.”

Over her head he could see a small group beginning to gather about Nicolas Ferencsik who was talking to the ex-Russian hatchetman, Nuriyev, and evidently becoming animated about something.

“Talking about monsters,” Quint said, “we ought to get in on that argument over there. Everybody’s been telling me that fur is supposed to fly when our guest of honor meets some of the others here tonight.”

“Oh?” she frowned. “What has Professor Ferencsik got to do with monsters? I thought he won Nobel prizes and things like that.”

Quint chuckled. “Yes, but by performing such feats as transplanting the brain of a chimp into the skull of an orangutan.”

“But you can’t do that. They’re different species.”

Quint laughed. “Argue that with him. You’re the science teacher.”

Marylyn’s frown deepened. “You go ahead. I hate arguments. Perhaps I’ll avoid meeting the Professor. Besides, I wanted to see Marty Dempsey about something.”

“Okay, see you later, pet.” Quint took up a fresh drink from the bar and strolled toward the growing group centered about the Hungarian medical genius. He decided he would see more of Marylyn before the evening was over. The girl was beginning to grow on him, in spite of the fact that he preferred being the aggressor in the boy-meet-girl game.