She smiled at him even more brightly. "What's stupid about it?" 

He stared at her, then suddenly grinned back. "Okay, you're ribbing me. But dammit, you let a guy like Brannan soft-soap you and squire you all around the town, and eat it up, and when I pay you a legitimate compliment, you act like ... like a woman!" 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jensen, sir," she said. "I didn't mean to forget we are working in a scientific laboratory and that you are my boss. We are both men, working on a man's job--" 

He groaned. "Okay, you win. But will you quit rubbing in that silly statement I made when I hired you? Sure, I said it was a man's job, and I wanted it handled like a man. But you needn't grow a beard over it!" 

"Might be a good idea. Then when you fire me for being dog-tired, I could get a job in a circus." 

"Yes, and if you bungle this morning's experiment, I may be able to get a job in a nuthouse!" 

She was instantly contrite. "Oh Don, I won't! But why don't you do the hard work, and let me be the subject? Then if anything goes wrong, all your work won't be lost...." 

"Nuts. You know as much about it as I do. And besides, what if I accidentally picked up your emotional seat and found out what time Brannan really brought you in last night?" 

"Maybe you'd be surprised." 

"I'd like to have Brannan under the machine," he said. "Maybe you'd be surprised." 

"Mary Mason can take care of herself," she said. 

He looked at her. "Yeah, I guess you can. So, how about dinner tonight?" 

"Psychology class tonight." 

"Tomorrow night." 

"Choir practice." 

"Thursday." 

"Brannan." 

 Prev. P 2/12 next