"Don't talk like a nincompoop, boy! We're in." He turned to Qalith. "Got any friends, honey?"

Qalith's eyes seemed to gleam. Fader's hand straightened with a jerk. He stood stiffly.

"He's hypnotized," said Qalith. "We can talk and he won't hear or remember what we say."

"There's not much to be said," said Homer.

"You don't want the job?"

"With this lecherous old tom-cat?"

Qalith smiled. "You are Puritanical," she said. "You're stuffy and naive and innocent. But I like you."

"I'm probably crazy too," said Homer.

Qalith shook her head. "No. You're unhappy. You don't like being a teacher either, do you?"

"Of course I do!" Homer spoke with too much emphasis. "It's a pleasant life."

"But you've seen broken old men teaching. Men who had brains and who didn't have a cent in their savings account. You know you'll starve all your life and get very little thanks for discovering genius. You know and you want to get away from it. That's why you even considered going with Fader in the first place. If you'd really been contented you'd have turned him down right off."

Homer realized she spoke the truth. "But any job has its drawbacks. I've either got to teach chemistry or become a research chemist. From what I've seen, Fader and Faderfield Junior College are my only choices. And Chemistry is all I know."

"You know about ethics and customs of your planet. You know what people are supposed to do and rarely do."

"It doesn't make a living for me."

"Not on earth. But on Planet 12, you'd be an authority on the planet Earth. The only authority because you know all about the earth's unkept laws of social conduct and you're one of the few that ever kept those laws."

One thing held Homer back. "Is your planet really communistic? Don't you have private property?"

"Do you own this house?"

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