he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to an H-bomb.

He remembered Kay's odd accent. Was that the way a person would speak English if her own language ran something like "ist ifedereret, hid jestig snoll doper adwo?"

He remembered the way she had looked at him in the coffee bar.

He remembered the material of her dress.

He remembered how she had come to his room.

"I didn't know you had a taste for Taine."

Her voice seemed to come from far away, but she was standing right beside him, tall and bewitching; Helenesque as ever. Her blue eyes became great wells into which he found himself falling. With an effort, he pulled himself back. "You're early tonight," he said lamely.

She appropriated the message, read it. "Put the book back," she said presently. Then, when he complied: "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to deliver a snoll doper to Jilka. After that I'm going to take you home to meet my folks."

The relieved sigh he heard was his own.

They climbed into her convertible and she nosed it into the moving line of cars. "How long have you been reading my mail?" she asked.

"Since the night before I met you."

"Was that the reason you spilled the sugar?"

"Part of the reason," he said. "What's a snoll doper?"

She laughed. "I don't think I'd better tell you just yet."

He sighed again. "But if Jilka wanted a snoll doper," he said after a while, "why in the world didn't she call you up and say so?"

"Regulations." She pulled over to the curb in front of a brick apartment building. "This is where Jilka lives. I'll explain when I get back."

He watched her get out, walk up the walk to the entrance and let herself in. He leaned his head back on the seat, lit a 

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