said in a pained voice. "I'm having enough trouble now without your unwelcome aid. Any relationship between you and Marie Baker must shortly become, at best, platonic." A small brass figurine of Rodin's Discobolus took a sidelong look and made the brazen observation that being platonic with such as Miss Baker was an idea never suggested by his friend Plato. Plato had too much sense. "Just how do you figure in this?" demanded the giant. "Have we met?" asked Hedgerly. "I'm Anthony Graydon. And my query goes still." "Pleased to know you, Mr. Graydon. I trust your intentions toward Miss Baker are simple?" "Miss Baker happens to be wearing my engagement ring," returned Graydon. Hedgerly looked, and saw a bit of glitter about the size of a small pigeon's egg on her left hand. Hedgerly shook his head sadly. "May I introduce Miss Willson?" he suggested. "Miss Willson, will you meet Mr. Graydon? Perhaps, Mr. Graydon, the no-longer-needed engagement ring will fit Miss Willson." Anthony Graydon looked down on the time-traveling man with grand contempt. "You have all the sheer, cockeyed assurance of an egomaniac," he said. "Is Marie supposed to marry you?" "Oh no," explained Hedgerly. "She'll marry him. Miss Baker, may I present Mr. Hedgerly. Marie, this is Peter." He took Anthony by one arm and Joan Willson by the other and steered them towards the door. "Let us leave them alone," he said. "They must become acquainted." "Look," snapped Anthony, "this has gone far enough—" "Please," interrupted Hedgerly, "this is serious. Miss Willson will tell you that what I say is true, however unwilling she is to face the bitter truth. It is only a matter of time before Miss Baker becomes Mrs. Peter Hedgerly." The door closed softly behind the three of them before Tony Graydon turned to Hedgerly and said: "What kind of high-octane are you using in your crystal ball these days, Swami?" "Swami? But please, this is not the work of a charlatan. This is historic fact." "Sure. So is my girl marrying that bird, huh?" "They will
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