Thirty minutes later they were married, with the cancelling clause
included. Cornith thought now that he had carried the joke too far.
Lucy seemed on the verge of tears. Besides, they would not be legally
and finally married until after he had weighed her. And he knew now
that she meant to abide strictly by the words of the ceremony, that if
the scales showed less than a hundred and twenty-three pounds she would
not consider herself married. He thought of finagling the scales. But
she went along with him to buy them, and insisted that they be checked
and sealed to the hundredth of an ounce. Cornith knew now that she was
not only a liar, but the most sincere and conscientious person he had
ever known.
* * * * *
He felt cheap and mean and low as he accompanied her into the bridal
suite he had engaged via pocket-communicator. He placed the scales on
the floor and felt as though he had deliberately cheated and tricked
an innocent child. He could see that Lucy was uncertain of herself.
He could feel the tremors of fear that shook her, the doubts, the
questions of right and wrong, the wondering what all this was going
to do to her happiness. He would have traded his hunting lodge on Mars
just for the privilege of going back and changing it all and telling
her that she was perfect at a hundred and twenty-two pounds, fifteen
ounces, and need never change an iota to please him.
She turned slowly to face him, and two crystal tears formed in the
corners of her azure eyes. "Just one kiss," she begged. "Because I
might fail, and that means the end."
Cornith held her close. He wished there was something he could do to
comfort her, to change it all, but he knew the depth of her sincerity,
and he knew that she would offer no excuse, would accept no failure
even from herself. Indeed, her whole happiness, it seemed, depended
upon her promise that she would fill the specifications even to that
final ounce.
She pushed him away and smiled through her tears. "I'm losing weight by
crying," she said. "Gee, golly! I hope I've figured it right."
"Dripping wet," he said. "Leave the suds on if you wish."
She shook her head. "That wouldn't be honest." She broke away, ran
to the bathroom. She stepped inside the bathroom and drew the door
shut. Cornith stood there alone, and suddenly he felt as though his
own weight had increased. Something was gone, locked away from him,
something that had been vitally alive and warm and colorful. He walked
over to the window and stood looking down at the street below. It was
filled with life, but its life seemed alien, remote. His ears picked
up the faint sound of the shower, and he knew that his thoughts would
always hereafter be filled with the memory of how close he had come to
happiness.
He heard the bathroom door open softly, but he didn't dare look. His
heart was too heavy. Then he heard the soft, tremulous voice. "I've
got soap in my eyes. Come look at the scales. Don't look at me. I'm
dripping wet."
Cornith turned slowly, caught his breath. The vision that met his eyes
was a loveliness transcending his wildest dreams. The coruscating beads
of water were like flashing jewels adorning a soft pink and white body,
vitally alive and yet trembling in fear. He stepped quickly to the
scales and looked.
* * * * *
A warm glow started at his feet and rushed upward, making him giddy
as it swept over his neck and face and on into his brain. The scales
showed a hundred and twenty-three pounds and four one-hundredths of an
ounce. He glanced up. She had wiped the soap out of her eyes and those
azure orbs were flashing a surge of joy unparalleled.
Cornith sprang to take her in his arms, but she leaped away, raced to
the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it.
"Come on out," he said. "You saw the scales."
"I'm not coming out," she called back, "until you figure out how I did
it."
"Don't be silly."
"I'm a determined woman, Herb darling!"
And Cornith knew that it was true. There was nothing left but to get
to work and figure out how she had accomplished the seeming miracle.
He drew out a chair at the writing desk, found paper and felt for his
pen. He stated the problem, cancelling out eating and drinking, for he
had been with her all of the time and she had not taken anything. He
thought that perhaps she and the blonde had lied about her original
weight. But that didn't fit. She had been sincerely worried about
whether she would succeed. Ah! There it was.
He went to work and in three minutes he had two pages filled with
figures, ciphers and symbols. He smiled grimly to himself and worked
on. Ten minutes passed. He heard her call from the bathroom, but did
not answer. He was engrossed with the problem. He worked on and on,
eliminating variables, restating the problem, beginning anew with a
different theory, working on and on. An hour passed.
[Illustration: As the equations sped through his mind her image was
always among them.]
With the desk and floor littered, Cornith paused reflectively. He
heard a soft movement behind him, then Lucy's voice said, "I couldn't
wait any longer. I've come to help you."
"Don't bother me now," Cornith said. He jotted down another row of
numerals, then leaned back and sighed.
Two warm arms went around his neck. "Was it so difficult?" she asked.
"I figured it out in no time. It's just that gravity differs at the
poles and the equator. It is slightly more at the poles. About one
in fifty, I think. I didn't know for certain. But on that basis I
figured there would be a change in specific gravity of about an ounce
every hundred miles or so. I had to guess at it. That's why I was
so frightened. Anyway, we flew over two hundred miles north to this
hurry-up place. Do you understand it, darling?"
"You mean, about your weight and the difference in gravity between the
equator and the poles?"
"Yes, darling."
"I figured that out in the first three seconds after I sat down. I've
been computing your basic personality, trying to figure out how long
you would remain in the bathroom before coming out to help me. I missed
it somewhere. I figured you'd be in there another two hours. I'll have
to check my figures. Go away."
"Oh, no, you won't recheck them." She placed a hand over the paper. "On
this one I'm going to help. The error is right there. You didn't allow
enough for the volume and strength of my love to cancel out the volume
and strength of my determination and resistance. Square resistance and
raise love to the power of ten. And now if you don't give me a big
kiss, I'll revert to the specifications and steal one."
In the next instant she was crushed in his strong arms. And her ears
were wiggling ecstatically.