The typewriter carriage whipped back to begin a new line. Marmie held his breath. Here, if anywhere, would come-

And the little finger moved out and made: * Hoskins yelled, “Asterisk!”

“Marmie muttered, “ Asterisk.” Torgesson said, “ Asterisk?”

A line of nine more asterisks followed.

“That's all, brother,” said Hoskins. He explained quickly to the staring Torgesson, “With Marmie, it's a habit to use a line of asterisks when he wants to indicate a radical shift of scene. And a radical shift of scene is exactly what I wanted.”

The typewriter started a new paragraph: “within the ship-”

“Turn it off, Professor,” said Marmie.

Hoskins rubbed his hands. “When do I get the revision Marmie?”

Marmie said coolly, “What revision?”

“You said the monk's version.”

“I sure did. It's what I brought you here to see. That little Rollo is a machine; a cold, brutal, logical machine.”

“Well?”

“And the point is that a good writer is not a machine. He doesn't write with his mind, but with his heart. His heart.” Marmie pounded his chest.

Hoskins groaned. “What are you doing to me, Marmie? If you give me that heart-and-soul-of-a-writer routine, I'll just be forced to turn sick right here and right now. Let's keep all this on the usual I'll-write-anything-for-money basis.”

Marmie said, “Just listen to me for a minute. Little Rollo corrected Shakespeare. You pointed that out for yourself. Little Rollo wanted Shakespeare to say, 'host of troubles,' and he was right from his machine standpoint. A 'sea of troubles' under the circumstances is a mixed metaphor. But don't you suppose Shakespeare knew that, too? Shakespeare just happened to know when to break the rules, that's all. Little Rollo is a machine that can't break the rules, but a good writer can, and must. 'Sea of troubles' is more impressive; it has roll and power. The hell with the mixed metaphor.