in for the kill. Or shut up about it. You're driving us all nuts."

"Would you like to try?" Blunt suggested softly.

"Sure I'll try," Kosalowsky said. He turned on the light over his bunk. "Give me a crack at her. I could have managed it weeks ago. All you've done is talk to the quail."

"Yah, Dick, maybe you're using the wrong approach on this one," O'Connors suggested.

"It's the damn places you take her," Kosalowsky said. "Art galleries. Anybody ever seduce a girl in an art gallery? Symphonies. Popping around in her damn Hop-Hop. Can't you ever get her alone?"

"She lives with ten other girls," Blunt said sulkily. "They're all home all the time."

"Well, bring her here, then," Pane suggested. "We'll all take a powder."

"Where?"

There was no answer. They could not all, by day, desert the ship, and it was getting too chilly for the crew to hide in adjacent shrubbery. "We could put up a wall," Pane said suddenly, "between the bunks and the bar."

"With what?"

"I know," Banks said eagerly, "where there's a whole pile of stuff. It's nice thin metal, just lying there getting rusty."

"I think you're premature—"

"Premature!" Kosalowsky shouted. "Six months you've been chasing this tomato. You call that premature?"

"Only four by Engrahamic time," Blunt said, insulted.

"Listen," Kosalowsky said, "that wall goes up tomorrow. And you're smuggling her in tomorrow night. Or else," he said, glaring at Blunt, "after that it's every man for himself. Check?"

Blunt, only slightly seen in the light from Kosalowsky's bunk, was white with rage. "All right, guys," he said stonily. "I've been trying to do right by this frail. Nothing abrupt or hillbilly. Nothing to hurt her delicate feelings or her fine mind. But if this is how you want it—Okay!"

The next day the wall went up.

Hardly a word was said as it was hammered in place. Once up, the place was G. I.'d thoroughly. The ash trays were washed, the floor vacuumed, and the lights adjusted to achieve the most tellingly seductive effect. Blunt went out at two, thin-lipped and silent.

"The jerk," Kosalowsky said, "I think he's a lot of hot air. That's what I think."

The Colonel came in at nightfall and asked about the wall. They told him that it was to cut off the recreation section from the sleeping quarters, for the protection of those who wanted more sleep to prepare for the grueling winter watches.

"Very good idea men," the Colonel said, and went upstairs to write another chapter in his book.

At nine the men disappeared into their bunks. O'Connors won the responsible job of peering through the narrow slit in the wall. Behind him could be heard the labored breathing of twenty-seven distraught men. One man snored. "Wake up, you stupid ass," Pane told Lanham. "You'll wreck the show."

At last the door opened and Blunt came in—with the girl.

She was breath-taking. She wore, O'Connors reported, a dress cut to here—and her hair was piled high on her patrician head. Blunt had not lied. She was even prettier than the usual run of Engraham girls.

"He's offering her a drink," O'Connors whispered.

"She take it?"