"Hi," the girl said, unimpressed. "Well, I have to go." She disappeared out the door of the shop and got back into her car; Pete and Joe Schilling stood watching until the car took off and was gone.

"How old do you think she is?" Pete said.

"I know how old she is; I remember reading it. She's eighteen. One of twenty-nine students at San Francisco State College, majoring in history. Mary Anne was the first child born in San Francisco in the past hundred years." His tone, now, was somber. "God help the world," he said, "if anything happens to her, any kind of an accident or illness."

Both of them were silent.

"She reminds me a little of her mother," Pete said.

Joe Schilling said, "She's stunningly attractive." He eyed Pete. "I suppose now you've changed your mind; you want to stake her instead of me."

"She's probably never had an opportunity to play The Game."

"Meaning?"

"She wouldn't make a good Bluff partner."

"Right," Joe said. "Not nearly as good as me. And don't forget that. What's your marital status, right now?"

"When I lost Berkeley, Freya and I split up. She's now Mrs. Gaines. I'm looking for a wife."

"But you've got to have one who can play," Joe Schilling said. "A Bindman wife. Or you'll lose Marin County just like you lost Berkeley and then what'll you do? The world can't use two rare-record shops."

Pete said, "I've thought over and over again for years what I'd do if I were wiped out at the table. I'd become a farmer."

Guffawing, Joe said, "Indeed. Now you say, 'I was never so serious in all my life.' "