"Well, I'm--I'm---"

"Oh, I know--you've got to run down to Brazil for the week-end."

"Not at all. I'd be delighted to come---"

Marcia clapped her hands.

"Goodyforyou! I'll mail you a ticket--Thursday night?"

"Why, I---"

"Good! Thursday night it is."

She stood up and walking close to him laid both hands on his
shoulders.

"I like you, Omar. I'm sorry I tried to kid you. I thought you'd
be sort of frozen, but you're a nice boy."

He eyed her sardonically.

"I'm several thousand generations older than you are."

"You carry your age well."

They shook hands gravely.

"My name's Marcia Meadow," she said emphatically. "'Member it--