XII

Hoddan stopped off at Krim by landing grid, to consult his lawyers. He

felt a certain amount of hope of good results from his raid on Walden,

but he was desperate about Nedda. Once she was confident of her safety

under his protection, she took over the operation of the spaceship. She

displayed an overwhelming saccharinity that was appalling. She was

sweetness and light among criminals who respectfully did not harm her,

and she sweetened and lightened the atmosphere of the space yacht until

Hoddan's followers were close to mutiny.

"It ain't that I mind her being a nice girl," one of his mustachioed

Darthians explained almost tearfully to Hoddan, "but she wants to make a

nice girl out of me!"

Hoddan, himself, cringed from her society. He could gladly have put her

ashore on Krim with ample funds to return to Walden. But she was

prettily, reproachfully helpless. If he did put her ashore, she would

confide her kidnaping and the lovely behavior of the pirates until

nobody would believe in them any more--which would be fatal.

He went to his lawyers, brooding. The news astounded him. The emigrant

fleet had appeared over Krim on the way to Walden. Before it appeared,

Hoddan's affairs had been prosperous enough. Right after his previous

visit, news had come of the daring piratical raid which captured a ship

off Walden. This was the liner Hoddan'd brought in to Krim. All

merchants and ship owners immediately insured all vessels and goods in

space transit at much higher valuations. The risk-insurance stocks

bought on Hoddan's account had multiplied in value. Obeying his

instructions, his lawyers had sold them out and held a pleasing fortune

in trust for Hoddan.

Then came the fleet over Krim, with its letter threatening planetary

destruction if resistance was offered to single ships which would land

and loot later on. It seemed that all commerce was at the mercy of space

marauders. Risk-insurance companies had undertaken to indemnify the

owners of ships and freight in emptiness. Now that an unprecedented

pirate fleet ranged and doubtless ravaged the skyways, the insurance

companies ought to go bankrupt. Owners of stock in them dumped it at any

price to get rid of it. In accordance with Hoddan's instructions,

though, his lawyers had faithfully if distastefully bought it in. To use

up the funds available, they had to buy up not only all the stock of all

the risk-insurance companies of Krim, but all stock in all off-planet

companies owned by investors on Krim.

Then time passed, and ships in space arrived unmolested in port. Cargoes

were delivered intact. Insurers observed that the risk-insurance

companies had not collapsed and could still pay off if necessary. They

continued their insurance. Risk companies appeared financially sound

once more. They had more business than ever, and no more claims than

usual. Suddenly their stocks went up--or rather, what people were

willing to pay for them went up, because Hoddan had forbidden the sale

of any stock after the pirate fleet appeared.

Now he asked hopefully if he could reimburse the owners of the ship he'd

captured off Walden. He could. Could he pay them even the profit they'd

have made between the loss of their ship and the arrival of a

replacement? He could. Could he pay off the shippers of Rigellian furs

and jewelry from the Cetis stars, and the owners of the bulk _melacynth_

that had brought so good a price on Krim? He could. In fact, he had. The

insurance companies he now owned lock, stock, and barrel had already

paid the claims on the ship and its cargo, and it would be rather

officious to add to that reimbursement.

Hoddan was abruptly appalled. He insisted on a bonus being paid,

regardless, which his lawyers had some trouble finding a legal fiction

to fit. Then he brooded over his position. He wasn't a business man. He

hadn't expected to make out so well. He'd thought to have to labor for

years, perhaps, to make good the injury he'd done the ship owners and

merchants in order to help the emigrants from Colin. But it was all

done, and here he was with a fortune and the framework of a burgeoning

financial empire. He didn't like it.

Gloomily, he explained matters to his attorneys. They pointed out that

he had a duty, an obligation, from the nature of his unexpected success.

If he let things go, now, the currently thriving business of risk

insurance would return to its former unimportance. His companies had

taken on extra help. More bookkeepers and accountants worked for him

this week than last. More mail clerks, secretaries, janitors and

scrubwomen. Even more vice presidents! He would administer a serious

blow to the economy of Krim if he caused a slackening of employment by

letting his companies go to pot. A slackening of employment would cause

a drop in retail trade, an increase in inventories, a depression in

industry....

Hoddan thought gloomily of his grandfather. He'd written to the old

gentleman and the emigrant fleet would have delivered the letter. He

couldn't disappoint his grandfather!

He morbidly accepted his attorneys' advice, and they arranged

immediately to take over the forty-first as well as the forty-second

and-third floors of the building their offices were in. Commerce would

march on.

* * * * *

And Hoddan headed for Darth. He had to return his crew, and there was

something else. Several something elses. He arrived in that solar-system

and put his yacht in a search-orbit, listening for the call-signal the

spaceboat should give for him to home on. He found it, deep within the

gravity-field of Darth. He maneuvered to come alongside, and there was

blinding light everywhere. Alarms rang. Lights went out. Instruments

registered impossibilities, the rockets fired crazily, and the whole

ship reeled. Then a voice roared out of the communicator:

"_Stand and deliver! Surrender and y'll be allowed to go to ground. But

if y'even hesitate I'll hull ye and heave ye out to space without a

spacesuit!_"

Hoddan winced. Stray sparks had flown about everywhere inside the space

yacht. A ball lightning bolt, even of only warning size, makes things

uncomfortable when it strikes. Hoddan's fingers tingled as if they'd

been asleep. He threw on the transmitter switch and said annoyedly:

"Hello, grandfather. This is Bron. Have you been waiting for me long?"

He heard his grandfather swear disgustedly. Not long later, a badly

battered, blackened, scuffed old spacecraft came rolling up on

rocket-impulse and stopped with a billowing of rocket fumes. Hoddan

threw a switch and used the landing grid field he'd used on Walden in

another fashion. The ships came together with fine precision,

lifeboat-tube to lifeboat-tube. He heard his grandfather swear in

amazement.

"That's a little trick I worked out, grandfather," said Hoddan into the

transmitter. "Come aboard. I'll pass it on."

His grandfather presently appeared, scowling and suspicious. His eyes

shrewdly examined everything, including the loot tucked in every

available space. He snorted.

"All honestly come by," said Hoddan morbidly. "It seems I've got a

license to steal. I'm not sure what to do with it."

His grandfather stared at a placard on the wall. It said archly:

"_Remember! A Lady is Present!_" Nedda had put it up.

"Hm-m-m!" said his grandfather. "What's a woman doing on a pirate ship?

That's what your letter talked about!"

"They get on," said Hoddan, wincing, "like mice. You've had mice on a

ship, haven't you? Come in the control room and I'll explain."

He did explain, up to the point where his arrangements to pay back for a

ship and cargo he'd given away turned into a runaway success, and now he

was responsible for the employment of innumerable bookkeepers and clerks

and such in the insurance companies he'd come to own. There was also the

fact that as the emigrant fleet went on, some fifty more planets in all

would require the attention of pirate ships from time to time, or there

would be disillusionment and injury to the economic system.

"Organization," said his grandfather, "does wonders for a tender

conscience like you've got. What else?"

Hoddan explained the matter of his Darthian crew. Don Loris might

affect to consider them disgraced because they hadn't cut his throat.

Hoddan had to take care of the matter. And there was Nedda.... Fani came

into the story somehow, too. Hoddan's grandfather grunted, at the end.

"We'll go down and talk to this Don Loris," he said pugnaciously. "I've

dealt with his kind before. While we're down, your Cousin Oliver'll take

a look at this new grid-field job. We'll put it on my ship. Hm-m-m--how

about the time down below? Never land long after daybreak. Early in the

morning, people ain't at their best."

Hoddan looked at Darth, rotating deliberately below him.

"It's not too late, sir," he said. "Will you follow me down?"

His grandfather nodded briskly, took another comprehensive look at the

loot from Walden, and crawled back through the tube to his own ship.

* * * * *

So it was not too long after dawn, in that time-zone, when a sentry on

the battlements of Don Loris' castle felt a shadow over his head. He

jumped a foot and stared upward. Then his hair stood up on end and

almost threw his steel helmet off. He stared, unable to move a muscle.

There was a ship above him. It was not a large ship, but he could not

judge of such matters. It was not supported by rockets. It should have

been falling horribly to smash him under its weight. It wasn't. Instead,

it floated on with very fine precision, like a ship being landed by

grid, and settled delicately to the ground some fifty yards from the

base of the castle wall.

Immediately thereafter there was a muttering roar. It grew to a howl--a

bellow; it became thunder. It increased from that to a noise so

stupendous that it ceased altogether to be heard, and was only felt as a

deep-toned battering at one's chest. When it ended there was a second

ship resting in the middle of a very large scorched place close by the

first.

Neither of these ships was a spaceboat. The silently landed vessel,

which was the smaller of the two, was several times the sizes of the

only spacecraft ever seen on Darth outside the spaceport. Its design was

somehow suggestive of a yacht. The other, larger, ship was blunt and

soiled and space-worn, with patches on its plating here and there.

A landing ramp dropped down from the battered craft. It neatly spanned

the scorched and still-smoking patch of soil. A port opened. Men came

out, following a jaunty small figure with belligerent gray whiskers.

They dragged an enigmatic object behind them.

Hoddan came out of the yacht. His grandfather said waspishly:

"This the castle?"

He waved at the massive pile of cut gray stone, with walls twenty feet

thick and sixty high.

"Yes, sir," said Hoddan.

"Hm-m-m," snorted his grandfather. "Looks flimsy to me!" He waved his

hand again. "You remember your cousins."

Familiar, matter-of-fact nods came from the men of the battered ship.

Hoddan hadn't seen any of them for years, but they were his kin. They

wore commonplace, workaday garments, but carried weapons slung

negligently over their shoulders. They dragged the cryptic object behind

them without particular formation or apparent discipline, but somehow

they looked capable.

Hoddan and his grandfather strolled to the castle gate, their companions

a little to their rear. They came to the gate. Nothing happened. Nobody

challenged. There was the feel of peevish refusal to associate with

persons who landed in spaceships.

[Illustration]

"Shall we hail?" asked Hoddan.

"Nah!" snorted his grandfather. "I know his kind! Make him make the

advances." He waved to his descendents. "Open it up."

Somebody casually pulled back a cover and reached in and threw switches.

"Found a power broadcast unit," grunted Hoddan's grandfather, "on a ship

we took. Hooked it to the ship's space-drive. When y'can't use the

space-drive, you still got power. Your Cousin Oliver whipped this thing

up to use it."

The enigmatic object made a spiteful noise. The castle gate shuddered

and fell halfway from its hinges. The thing made a second noise. Stones

splintered and began to collapse. Hoddan admired. Three more unpleasing

but not violently loud sounds. Half the wall on either side of the gate

was rubble, collapsing partly inside and partly outside the castle's

proper boundary.

Figures began to wave hysterically from the battlements. Hoddan's

grandfather yawned slightly.

"I always like to talk to people," he observed, "when they're worryin'

about what I'm likely to do to them, instead of what maybe they can do

to me."

Figures appeared on the ground level. They'd come out of a sally port to

one side. They were even extravagantly cordial when Hoddan's grandfather

admitted that it might be convenient to talk over his business inside

the castle, where there would be an easy-chair to sit in.

* * * * *

Presently they sat beside the fireplace in the great hall. Don Loris,

jittering, shivered next to Hoddan's grandfather. The Lady Fani

appeared, icy-cold and defiant. She walked with frigid dignity to a

place beside her father. Hoddan's grandfather regarded her with a

wicked, estimating gaze.

"Not bad!" he said brightly. "Not bad at all!" Then he turned to Hoddan.

"Those retainers coming?"

"On the way," said Hoddan. He was not happy. The Lady Fani had passed

her eyes over him exactly as if he did not exist.

There was a murmurous noise. The dozen spearmen came marching into the

great hall. They carried loot. It dripped on the floor and they blandly

ignored such things as stray golden coins rolling off away from them.

Stay-at-home inhabitants of the castle gazed at them in joyous

wonderment.

Nedda came with them. The Lady Fani made a very slight, almost

imperceptible movement. Hoddan said desperately:

"Fani, I know you hate me, though I can't guess why. But here's a thing

that ... has to be taken care of! We made a raid on Walden ... that's

where the loot came from ... and my men kidnaped this girl ... her name

is Nedda ... and brought her on the ship as a present to me ... because

she'd admitted that she knew me! Nedda's in an awful fix, Fani! She's

alone and friendless, and ... somebody has to take care of her! Her

father'll come for her eventually, no doubt, but somebody's got to take

care of her in the meantime, and I can't do it!" Hoddan felt hysterical

at the bare idea. "I can't!"

The Lady Fani looked at Nedda. And Nedda wore the brave look of a girl

so determinedly sweet that nobody could possibly bear it.

"I'm ... very sorry," said Nedda bravely, "that I've been the cause of

poor Bron turning pirate and getting into such dreadful trouble. I cry

over it every night before I go to sleep. He treated me as if I were his

sister, and the other men were so gentle and respectful that I ... I

think it will break my heart when they are punished. When I think of

them being executed with all that dreadful, hopeless formality--"

"On Darth," said the Lady Fani practically, "we're not very formal about

such things. Just cutting somebody's throat is usually enough. But he

treated you like a sister, did he? Thal?"

Thal swallowed. He'd been beaming a moment before, with his arms full of

silver plate, jewelry, laces, and other bits of booty from the town of

Ensfield. But now he said desperately:

"Yes, Lady Fani. But not the way I'd've treated my sister. My sisters,

Lady Fani, bit me when they were little, slapped me when they were

bigger, and scorned me when I grew up. I'm fond of 'em! But if one of my

sisters'd ever lectured me because I wasn't refined, or shook a finger

at me because I wasn't gentlemanly-- Lady Fani, I'd've strangled her!"

There was a certain gleam in the Lady Fani's eye as she said warmly to

Hoddan:

"Of course I'll take care of the poor thing! I'll let her sleep with my

maids and I'm sure one of them can spare clothes for her to wear, and

I'll take care of her until a space liner comes along and she can be

shipped back to her family. And you can come to see her whenever you

please, to make sure she's all right!"

Hoddan's eyes tended to grow wild. His grandfather cleared his throat

loudly. Hoddan said doggedly:

"You, Fani, asked each of my men if they'd fight for you. They said yes.

You sent them to cut my throat. They didn't. But they're not disgraced!

I want that clear! They're good men! They're not disgraced for failing

to assassinate me!"

"Of course they aren't," conceded the Lady Fani sweetly. "Whoever heard

of such a thing?"

Hoddan wiped his forehead. Don Loris opened his mouth fretfully.

Hoddan's grandfather forestalled him.

"You've heard about that big pirate fleet that's been floating around

these parts? Eh? It's my grandson's. I run a squadron of it for him.

Wonderful boy, my grandson! Bloodthirsty crews on those ships, but they

love that boy!"

"Very--" Don Loris caught his breath. "Very interesting."

"He likes your men," confided Hoddan's grandfather. "Used them twice.

Says they make nice, well-behaved pirates. He's going to give them

stun-pistols and cannon like the one that smashed your gate. Only men on

Darth with guns like that! Seize the spaceport and put in power

broadcast, and make sure nobody else gets stun-weapons. Run the country.

Your men'll love it. Love that boy, too! Follow him anywhere. Loot."

Don Loris quivered. It was horribly plausible. He'd had the scheme of

the only stun-weapon-armed force on Darth, himself. He knew his men

tended to revere Hoddan because of the plunder his followers seemed

always to acquire. Don Loris was in a very, very uncomfortable

situation. Bored men from the battered spacecraft stood about his great

hall. They were unimpressed. He knew that they, at least, were casually

sure that they could bring his castle down about his ears in minutes if

they chose.

"But ... if my men--" Don Loris quavered. "What about me?"

"Minor problem," said Hoddan's grandfather blandly. "The usual thing

would be _pfft!_ Cut your throat." He rose. "Decide that later, no

doubt. Yes, Bron?"

"I've brought back my men," growled Hoddan, "and Nedda's taken care of.

We're through here."

He headed abruptly for the great hall's farthest door. His grandfather

followed him briskly, and the negligent, matter-of-fact armed men who

were mostly Hoddan's first and second cousins came after them. Outside

the castle, Hoddan said angrily:

"Why did you tell such a preposterous story, grandfather?"

"It's not preposterous," said his grandfather. "Sounds like fun, to me!

You're tired now, Bron. Lots of responsibilities and such. Take a rest.

You and your Cousin Oliver get together and fix those new gadgets on my

ship. I'll take the other boys for a run over to this spaceport town.

The boys need a run ashore, and there might be some loot. Your

grandmother's fond of homespun. I'll try to pick some up for her."

Hoddan shrugged. His grandfather was a law unto himself. Hoddan saw his

cousins bringing horses from the castle stables, and a very casual group

went riding away as if on a pleasure excursion. As a matter of fact, it

was. Thal guided them.

* * * * *

For the rest of that morning and part of the afternoon Hoddan and his

Cousin Oliver worked at the battered ship's Lawlor drive. Hoddan was

pleased with his cousin's respect for his device. He unfeignedly admired

the cannon his cousin had designed. Presently they reminisced about

their childhood. It was pleasant to renew family ties like this.

The riders came back about sunset. There were extra horses, with loads.

There were cheerful shoutings. His grandfather came into Hoddan's ship.

"Brought back some company," he said. "Spaceliner landed while we were

there. Friend of yours on it. Congenial fellow, Bron. Thinks well of

you, too!"

A large figure followed his grandfather in. A large figure with

snow-white hair. The amiable and relaxed Interstellar Ambassador to

Walden.

"Hard-gaited horses, Hoddan," he said wryly. "I want a chair and a

drink. I traveled a good many light-years to see you, and it wasn't

necessary after all. I've been talking to your grandfather."

"Glad to see you, sir," said Hoddan reservedly.

His Cousin Oliver brought glasses, and the Ambassador buried his nose in

his and said in satisfaction:

"A-a-ah! That's good! Capable man, your grandfather. I watched him loot

that town. Beautifully professional job! He got some homespun sheets for

your grandmother. But about you."

Hoddan sat down. His grandfather puffed and was silent. His cousins

effaced themselves. The Ambassador waved a hand.

"I started here," he observed, "because it looked to me like you were

running wild. That spacefleet, now ... I know something of your ability.

I thought you'd contrived some way to fake it. I knew there couldn't be

such a fleet. Not really! That was a sound job you did with the

emigrants, by the way. Most praiseworthy! And the point was that if you

ran hogwild with a faked fleet, sooner or later the Space Patrol would

have to cut you down to size. And you were doing much too good work to

be stopped!"

Hoddan blinked.

"Satisfaction," said the Ambassador, "is well enough. But satiety is

death. Walden was dying on its feet. Nobody could imagine a greater

satisfaction than curling up with a good tranquilizer! You've ended

that! I left Walden the day after your Ensfield raid. Young men were

already trying to grow mustaches. The textile mills were making colored

felt for garments. Jewelers were turning out stun-gun pins for

ornaments, Darthian knives for brooches, and the song writers had eight

new tunes on the air about pirate lovers, pirate queens, and dark ships

that roam the lanes of night. Three new vision-play series were to start

that same night with space-piracy as their theme, and one of them

claimed to be based on your life. Better make them pay for that, Hoddan!

In short, Walden had rediscovered the pleasure to be had by taking pains

to make a fool of one's self. People who watched that raid on

visionscreens had thrills they'd never swap for tranquilizers! And the

ones who actually mixed in with the pirate raiders-- You deserve well of

the republic, Hoddan!"

Hoddan said, "Hm-m-m," because there was nothing else to be said.

"Now, your grandfather and I have canvassed the situation thoroughly!

This good work must be continued. Diplomatic Service has been worried

all along the line. Now we've something to work up. Your grandfather

will expand his facilities and snatch ships, land and loot, and keep

piracy flying. Your job is to carry on the insurance business. The ships

that will be snatched will be your ships, of course. No interference

with legitimate commerce. The landing-raids will be paid for by the

interplanetary piracy-risk insurance companies--you. In time you'll

probably have to get writers to do scripts for them, but not right away.

You'll continue to get rich, but there's no harm in that so long as you

re-introduce romance and adventure and derring-do to a galaxy headed for

decline. Savages will not invent themselves if there are plenty of

heroic characters--of your making!--to slap them down!"

Hoddan said painfully:

"I like working on electronic gadgets. My cousin Oliver and I have some

things we want to work on together."

His grandfather snorted. One of the cousins came in from outside the

yacht. Thal followed him, glowing. He'd reported the looting of the

spaceport town, and Don Loris had gone into a tantrum of despair because

nobody seemed able to make headway against these strangers. Now he'd

turned about and issued a belated invitation to Hoddan and his

grandfather and their guest the Interstellar Ambassador--of whom he'd

learned from Thal--to dinner at the castle. They could bring their own

guards.

* * * * *

Hoddan would have refused, but the Ambassador and his grandfather were

insistent. Ultimately he found himself seated drearily at a long table

in a stone-walled room lighted by very smoky torches. Don Loris,

jittering, displayed a sort of professional conversational charm. He was

making an urgent effort to overcome the bad effect of past actions by

conversational brilliance. The Lady Fani sat quietly with jewels at her

throat. She looked most often at her plate. The talk of the oldsters

became profound. They talked administration. They talked practical

politics. They talked economics.

The Lady Fani looked very bored as the talk went on after the meal was

over. Don Loris said brightly, to her:

"My dear we must be tedious! Young Hoddan looks uninterested, too. Why

don't you two walk on the battlements and talk about such things as

persons your age find interesting?"

Hoddan rose, gloomily. The Lady Fani, with a sigh of polite resignation,

rose to accompany him. The Ambassador said suddenly:

"Hoddan! I forgot to tell you! They found out what killed that man

outside the power station!" When Hoddan showed no comprehension, the

Ambassador explained, "The man your friend Derec thought was killed by

deathrays. It develops that he'd gotten a terrific load on--drunk, you

know--and climbed a tree to escape the pink, purple, and green _duryas_

he thought were chasing him to gore him. He climbed too high, a branch

broke, and he fell and was killed. I'll take it up with the court when I

get back to Walden. No reason to lock you up any more, you know. You

might even sell the Power Board on using your receptor, now!"

"Thanks," said Hoddan politely. He added, "Don Loris has that Derec and

a cop from Walden here now. Tell them that and they may go home."

He accompanied the Lady Fani to the battlements. The stars were very

bright. They strolled. Remembering his Darthians, he felt very

unpopular.

"What was that the Ambassador told you?" she asked.

He explained without zest. He added morbidly that it didn't matter. He

could go back to Walden now, and if the Ambassador was right he could

even accomplish things in electronics there. But he wasn't interested.

It was odd that he'd once thought such things would make him happy.

"I thought," said the Lady Fani, in gentle melancholy, "that I would be

happier with you dead. You had made me very angry. No, no matter how!

But I found it was not so."

Hoddan fumbled for her meaning. It wasn't quite an apology for trying to

get him killed. But at least it was a disclaimer of future intentions in

that direction.

"And speaking of happiness," she added in a different tone, "this

Nedda...." He shuddered, and she said: "I talked to her. So then I sent

for Ghek. We're on perfectly good terms again, you know. I introduced

him to Nedda. She was vanilla ice cream with meringue and maple syrup on

it. He loved it! She gazed at him with pretty sadness and told him how

terrible it was of him to kidnap me. He said humbly that he'd never had

her ennobling influence nor dreamed that she existed. And she loved

that! They go together like strawberries and cream! I had to leave, or

stop being a lady. I think I made a match."

Then she said tranquilly:

"But seriously, you ought to be perfectly happy. You've everything you

ever said you wanted, except a delightful girl to marry."

Hoddan squirmed.

"We're old friends," said Fani kindly, "and you did me a great favor

once. I'll return it. I'll round up some really delightful girls for you

to look over."

"I'm leaving," said Hoddan, alarmed.

"The only thing is-- I don't know what type you like. Nedda isn't it."

Hoddan shuddered.

"Nor I," said Fani. "What type would you say I was?"

"Delightful," said Hoddan hoarsely.

The Lady Fani stopped and looked up at him. She said approvingly:

"I hoped that word would occur to you one day. Er ... what does a man

usually do when he discovers a girl is delightful?"

Hoddan thought it over. He started. He put his arms around her with

singularly little skill. He kissed her, at first as if amazed at

himself, and then with enthusiasm.

There were scraping sounds on the stone nearby. Footsteps. Don Loris

appeared, gazing uncertainly about.

"Fani!" he said plaintively. "Hoddan? Our guests are going to the

spaceships. I want to speak privately to Hoddan."

"Yes?" said Hoddan. Don Loris peered blindly about. He kissed Fani

again.

"I've been thinking," said Don Loris fretfully. "I've made some

mistakes, my dear boy, and I've given you excellent reason to dislike

me, but at bottom I've always thought a great deal of you.

And ... ah ... there seems to be only one way in which I can properly

express how much I admire you. Ah-- How would you like to marry my

daughter?"

Hoddan looked down at Fani. She did not try to move away.

"What do you think of the idea, Fani?" he asked. "How about marrying me

tomorrow morning?"

"Of course not!" said Fani indignantly. "I wouldn't think of such a

thing! I couldn't possibly get married before tomorrow afternoon!"