He had to. That was all there was to it. He had to—and tonight.

“—if I ever believed a word Sheila said in the first place,” Marian was saying. “I told her: ‘Connie Tyler is not that sort of woman, and that’s enough for me.’ You remember, darling, last month when Connie came to visit me in the hospital? Well, of course, I knew what she was thinking. She was looking at Mike and saying to herself that if Frank had only become head of the Ganymede department and had a two-thousand territ raise instead of you, she’d be having her fourth child now and I’d be visiting her. I knew what she was thinking, because in her place I’d be thinking exactly the same thing. But when she said it was the cutest, healthiest baby she’d ever seen, she was sincere. And when she wished me a fifth child for next year, she wasn’t just being polite: she really meant it!”

A fifth child, Stewart Raley thought bitterly. A fifth!

“—so I leave it up to you. What should I do about Sheila if she comes around tomorrow and starts in all over again?”

“Sheila?” he asked stupidly. “Sheila?”

Marian shook her head impatiently over the controls. “Sheila Greene. Ed’s wife, remember? Stewart, haven’t you heard a word I said?”

“Sure, honey. About—uh, the hospital and Connie. And Mike. I heard everything you said. But where does Sheila come in?”

She turned around now and stared at him. The large green cat’s-eyes, that had once pulled him across a dance floor to the side of a girl he didn’t know, were very intent. Then she flipped a switch, letting the automatic pilot take over to keep them on course. “Something’s wrong, Stewart. And it’s not just a hard day at the office. Something’s really wrong. What is it?”

“Later,” he said. “I lltell you later.”

“No, now. Tell me now. I couldn’t go through another second with you looking like that.”