"Yes, but in your present state, it isn't a good idea for you to add to that number."

I shifted to the other forearm. "Frank, things might be different if I weren't a thin, sallow lecher."

"What a nice compliment—"

"Uh huh."

"Especially since I work for you, nominally anyway—"

"Uh huh, nominally."

"Bosses should not make passes At gals who work as lower classes."

"Uh, huh, familiar."

"But you are, and getting more so daily—"

"Uh hu—are what?" I asked in surprise.

"Thin, tired: the GG has decided you're working too hard."

"Because I don't use Vano." I grinned, having waited long to put that one across.

"Be serious and listen—"

"You listen: if I'm working too hard, it's to finish. I must, and soon."

"This compulsion," she paced her words, "will kill you if you let it."

"It'll kill me if I don't let it—"

"Here comes Harry."

It was time. Blearily, I fumbled with the pills, spilled the bottle. Frank helped me gather them up, as Harry arrived.

He said, a look of worry on his gaunt, gray features, "The rest of us are waiting."

Concerned, Frank asked, "Think you're able?"

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