Marvin said nothing—merely clapped his hand to his stomach as if a thunderbolt had hit him there.
“I see it gets you,” smiled Grein. “Better get back into the game.”
“Are you offering me a job?”
“The president thinks I’m offering you the earth. But it’s only an assistant professorship.”
“Grein, you’re an angel of mercy. But I can’t give you an answer till I know whether I’m to be married.”
“Haven’t you got that matter fixed up yet?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, in God’s name get it settled, and bring her down here and get to work. We have just given Langmuir the Nichols medal for reactions at low pressures, but his criticisms of Rutherford and Bohr drive me to drink. They fascinate me, and I can’t disprove them, but his atom is too simple.”
Marvin sat immobile, still thinking of the marvel accomplished by Rutherford, and Grein went on.
“The stuff you sent me from France may contain the solution, especially what you have to say about interpenetrating elliptical orbits. But think of the years of experimentation before us.”