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Bickel. Roger followed, and found Dame Isabel at the fitting-out dock to the north of the field. Here the Phoebus (so Dame Isabel had named the ship) was being converted to the special uses for which she intended it.
    The Phoebus , Roger found as he circled it seeking Dame Isabel, was a large ship, consisting of five globes sixty feet in diameter joined by ovoidal tubes twenty feet across the largest dimensions. One globe had been opened and altered to form a stage, and here Roger found Dame Isabel, consulting with the project engineer. She greeted Roger briefly, and, so it seemed, with neither surprise nor disapproval.
    Roger drew a few cautious breaths, threw back his shoulders, and felt as if the worst was over, for on similar occasions in the past Dame Isabel had exhibited a brassy volubility. Now she listened attentively as the engineer described the manner in which he had fitted the stage into the ship. The pentagonal shape of the Phoebus enclosed an appreciable area; at its center a stanchion could be erected, cables strung to each of the globes, and all covered with a light fabric to form a tent-like auditorium.
    Bernard Bickel joined the group. He had been off inspecting the living accommodations and now reported all in order. Dame Isabel’s cabin seemed a trifle cramped, he remarked, as perhaps did his own cabin and office. Could not both be expanded at least in some small degree? The engineer agreed to look into the matter.
    Dame Isabel’s attention wandered. Her eye fell on Roger; her face changed. “Roger! What on earth are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your position?”
    Roger was caught unaware. “A temporary lay-off,” he stammered, “or so I hope. The market is extremely slow; Mr. McNab tells me there’s going to be a big shakedown in the business, and he’s had to put about a third of his staff on call.”
    “Indeed?” said Dame Isabel frostily. “He said nothing of this when I spoke to him.”
    Roger stated that in the financial world disaster often struck with the speed of a lightning bolt. “Mr. McNab naturally wanted to keep me on, but he said that everyone else would consider it favoritism. I told him not to consider my feelings, but do what he thought best.”
    “Roger,” said Dame Isabel, “I simply don’t know what to do with you. You have an excellent education, good manners, a certain vapid charm which you employ when it suits you, and an undeniable talent for high living. What would you do without your allowance from me? Would you starve? Or do you think the demands of your stomach might bring you to grips with reality?”
    Roger accepted the dressing-down with what he felt to be remarkable dignity. Eventually Dame Isabel threw up her hands. “I suppose that so long as I have a crust I must share with you.” She gave her attention once more to the engineer, and Roger turned away with relief.
    Now he noticed an extremely attractive girl inspecting the Phoebus . She wore a brown suit with black piping, a brown and black toque: she was a trifle taller than average, with the easy carriage of unself-conscious health. Her hair was brown, her eyes were hazel-brown, her features were perfectly ordered. Roger’s first impression was favorable, together with his second and third. The girl radiated female magnetism; to look at her was to want to approach her, touch her, establish proprietary rights. But there was more to the girl than physical charm. Even at first glance — and Roger had never before considered himself intuitive — he sensed in her something miraculous and extraordinary, a legendary élan which could not be defined.
    The girl noticed Roger’s attention. She did not seem disturbed. Roger smiled, though without any great fervor: the recent dressing-down had not tended to exalt his self-esteem. But the girl examined him with an expression which was almost admiration; and Roger wondered if by some magic this gloriously beautiful girl had seen deep inside him, had