by Charles Dye and Katherine MacLean

“ His new assistant and bodyguard was pleasantly deferential, lighting cigarettes for him, listening respectfully to his opinions, drawing him out with questions that showed he understood what he was listening to.
Bryce could not remember having had such a good time talking since he left the company of the meteorite miners at the Belt. Everything he said seemed right and even brilliant. As he talked and told anecdotes of his life and sketched some of his plans he saw his past life with peculiar vividness as if he were a stranger seeing it for the first time. ”

“ Pierce smiled. And to Sheila, “You shouldn't startle people like that, Ma'm. His heart's weak.”
“I just dropped dead,” Bryce said, finding words. “You aren't leading me on? You'll be there?”
“On my honor,” she smiled. “Good night, Bryce.” She was used to such tributes. Half mocking as they were, she knew how much they were basically sincere, and accepted their tribute to her beauty as a matter of course. What a wife to have and introduce as his wife to other men, and see the look in their eyes. ”

“ Pierce said, “It's easy to sway a miserable man to the point of pinning all his troubles and hate on to one name, like Bryce Carter.”
“I know,” said Bryce. He saw that the smiling dark young man was alert, walking a little ahead of him and glancing quickly left and right as they approached corners and intersections and recessed doorways where a man could wait unseen, doing his job as a bodyguard efficiently and inconspicuously. “If it's the man I think it is,” Bryce told him, falling into step again after they passed the turn into the tube trains, “he's working against a deadline. ”