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“That’s Austin Malone,” said Lucy. “He came to pick me up and look at your work.”

That was all the wedge her fellow-pupils needed.

“Aus-tin Ma-lone! Well!”

“Lucy, darling, I’d love to meet a real spaceman.”

“Roald, darling, would you mind very much if I stayed a moment?”

“I’m certainly not going to miss this and I don’t care if you mind or not, Roald, darling!”

Malone was an impressive figure. Halvorsen thought: he looks as though he’s been run through an esthetikon set for ‘brawny’ and ‘determined.’ Lucy made a hash of the introductions and the spaceman didn’t rise to conversational bait dangled enticingly by the girls.

In a clear voice, he said to Halvorsen: “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. Lucy tells me you have some things for sale. Is there any place we can look at them where it’s quiet?”

The students made sulky exits.

“Back here,” said the artist.

The girl and Malone followed him through the curtains. The spaceman made a slow circuit of the studio, seeming to repel questions.