Norma blinked back sympathetic tears.

"Peter, you must have read that line in a mellerdrammer," she said in an attempt at levity that fell flat.

"Maybe so," he told her. "But this is where I stop."

"Peter, you've got to continue!"

"How?"

"I—" Norma stopped. "Peter," she asked gently, "If I can outmaneuver daddy, would you let me help?"

He looked down at her. There was a sting in his eyes and he knew that if he weren't careful, tears would form and spill down his cheeks. He couldn't speak, but Norma said it for him.

"Peter, you've got faith in this thing. Why can't you let me have some, too? I've got faith in you, Peter. I admire your determination, I like your mind. No man could have done what you've done—"

"Done?" he exploded bitterly, "All I've done is to make an imbecile of myself."

Norma reached up and put a gentle hand on his mouth. "You've faith in yourself, I've got faith in you. Now, will you let me help?"

Slowly he shook his head.

"Peter! You fool. You and your cockeyed sense of social values. Don't you see that no matter what, no matter how widely separated two people are at the beginning and no matter in what way, they can be happy together only if each brings something that the other needs and has not got?"

"That's just book—"

Norma clung to him for a moment. "Peter, listen to me. You have the completely crazy notion that you want to hand me the world on a silver plate. I don't want the material world on any kind of plate. I've had everything I've wanted ever since I could point at things in store windows. You seem to think my sense of value is determined by the number of dollars available. It isn't. I—"

"You'll have precious little money once your father puts a close rein on the cashbox," said Peter harshly.

"I can circumvent father," said Norma angrily. "My problem is circumventing that warped thing you call your 

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