"There's always somebody to marry that sort of small child; all mush isn'ton the breakfast table. When you and I are ready to quit, Graylock,Providence has created a species of man whom settles our bills."

He threw back his head, inhaled the smoke of his cigarette, sent twothin streams through his nose.

"Maybe Drene may marry her himself. But--I don't believe he'll haveto. . . . Now, about those contracts--" he affected a yawn, "--go onand tell him, Guilder," he added, his words distorted by anotheryawn.