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the floor, and became a two-legged human being, whose appearance indicated that a lot of work had been done in an incredibly short time. Her hair was combed, and done up in a peculiar sweep to one side of her head. Her face looked washed, and presumably her teeth were brushed, for they were brilliantly white. Her skirt and blouse were on straight, and tucked in, and her stockings gleamed in even lines.
    ‘Good morning, mom,’ said this youthful apparition. “ ’Morning, back from-the-universe dad.’
    ‘Good morning, dear,’ said Estelle.
    Lane was hesitating. His daughter’s greeting was somehow not to his liking. That’s what his expression seemed to indicate. Or else, despite his assurances to his wife, the earlier feelings in him were too strong to be overcome, now that the moment for action had arrived.
    Estelle was abruptly tense. ‘John, Susan spoke to you.’
    Lane turned in his chair. ‘Susan/ he said, ‘do you always address people by their latest exploit? Suppose I said to you, “Hello, just-got-up Susan?” ’
    Susan was drinking her orange juice. She lowered the glass. ‘Can we start over, dad? I’m willing. Good morning, dad. I’m sure glad you’re back from the universe. ’
    ‘Good morning, Susan,’ said Lane.
    The words still came hard. His tone was slightly peevish, as if he was still one-down in a conversation that - his manner implied - should never have started in the first place. The man watched perhaps too grimly as his daughter finished her orange juice, gave him her delightful smile, and then glided over and put the booklet she had been holding onto the table beside his plate.
    ‘What’s this?’ Lane asked. His gaze fastened onto the print on the cover, and he read slowly, aloud, ‘Rules and Regulations far Outfits'
    Susan drew back, and for the first time when she spoke, her voice seemed formal. ‘Bringing you this,’ she said, ‘is part of the outfit program to communicate with parents.’
    ‘You sound like you’re quoting,’ said Lane, quickly. P araphrasing is more like it,’ Susan said.
    “What I don’t understand,’ said her father, 'is why should it be a program?’ At that moment, he caught a glimpse of Estelle’s face, with its disapproval, and he said hastily, ‘All right, Susan, I’ll consider myself communicated with.’ 1
    ‘It’s only a communication if you read it,’ said the girl. She seemed uncertain now, as if the unvarying intensity of his basic hostility was getting through to her finally. ‘Well - ’ she said, vaguely.
    It was a bad moment, and Lane’s expression recognised that the situation could only be saved by a. gesture of goodwill from him. For the first time, he managed a smile. ‘I think I’ve got something better for you than reading this book, my dear about-to-leave Susan.’
    The words caught his daughter at the door. She came to a stop, and turned slowly. She was visibly halted in her flight plan, which was clearly the solution she had come to. To leave, to put Lane and the problem he was causing behind her - that was what his communication prevented, barely in time. The man was momentarily staggered by the disaster that was so narrowly averted. He glanced involuntarily at his wife; and saw in her stricken expression her awareness of the same dark truth. His body shrank a little as he obviously visualised what might have happened if Susan had actually escaped; and there he would have been alone with Estelle.
    Lane swallowed and said hastily, with a forced smile, ‘Your mother has been making strong representations to me ... so just forget our little conversation of last night. I intend to get some data before I - ’ He stopped, grimacing.
    Whatever it was he might have said, was lost to history. Susan came back from the door, and put her arms around him. ‘Oh, dad, I knew you were a great guy.’ She kissed him warmly on the left cheek. As he kissed her on her right, she said, ‘Dad, is it true that when you were out in