"I think I understand now," she said slowly, "why you don't act like
other people. Toward me, for example. The way you live gives you what
other people have to get in crazy ways--making their work feed their
vanity, and justify pride, and make them feel significant. But you can
put your whole mind on your work."

He thought it over.

"Med Ship routine is designed to keep one healthy in his mind," he
admitted. "It works pretty well. It satisfies all my mental appetites.
But there are instincts...."

She waited. He did not finish.

"What do you do about the instincts that work and music and such
things can't satisfy?"

Calhoun grinned wryly, "I'm stern with them. I have to be."

He stood up and plainly expected her to go into the other cabin for
the night. She went.

It was after breakfast time of the next ship-day when he got out the
sample of clear liquid he'd worked so long to produce.

"We'll see how it works," he observed. "Murgatroyd's handy in case of
a slip-up. It's perfectly safe so long as he's aboard and there are
only the two of us."