“Ducky!” says Laurine. “I’m lonesome! Why haven’t you come up?”

“I… been busy,” I say, strangling slightly.

“Pooh!” says Laurine. “Listen, Ducky! Do you remember how much in love we used to be?”

I gulp.

“Are you doin’ anything this evening?” says Laurine.

I gulp again, because she is smiling at me in a way that a single man would maybe get dizzy, but it gives a old married man like me cold chills. When a dame looks at you possessive—

“Ducky!” says Laurine, impulsive. “I was so mean to you! Let’s get married!”

Desperation gives me a voice.

“I… got married,” I tell her, hoarse.

Laurine blinks. Then she says, courageous:

“Poor boy! But we’ll get you outta that! Only it would be nice if we could be married today. Now we can only be engaged!”

“I… can’t—”

“I’ll call up your wife,” says Laurine, happy, “and have a talk with her. You must have a code signal for your logic, darling. I tried to ring your house and noth—”

Click! That’s my logic turned off. I turned it off. And I feel faint all over. I got nervous prostration. I got combat fatigue. I got anything you like. I got cold feet.

I beat it outta Maintenance, yellin’ to somebody I got a emergency call. I’m gonna get out in a Maintenance car an’ cruise around until it’s plausible to go home. Then I’m gonna take the wife an’ kids an’ beat it for somewheres that Laurine won’t ever find me. I don’t wanna be’ fifth in Laurine’s series of husbands and maybe the second one she shoots in a moment of boredom. I got experience of blondes. I got experience of Laurine! And I’m scared to death!

I beat it out into traffic in the Maintenance car. There was a disconnected logic in the back, ready to substitute for one that hadda burned-out coil or something that it was easier to switch and fix back in the Maintenance shop.