"And didn't she go off with a Thinker?"
"If girls find me ugly, that's their business," Farquar said harshly, still not looking at Opperly. "What's that got to do with this invitation?"
Opperly didn't answer the question. His eyes got more distant. Finally he said, "In my day we had it a lot easier. A scientist was an academician, cushioned by tradition."
Willard snorted. "Science had already entered the era of the police inspectors, with laboratory directors and political appointees stifling enterprise."
"Perhaps," Opperly agreed. "Still, the scientist lived the safe, restricted, highly respectable life of a university man. He wasn't exposed to the temptations of the world."
Farquar turned on him. "Are you implying that the Thinkers will somehow be able to buy me off?"
"Not exactly."
"You think I'll be persuaded to change my aims?" Farquar demanded angrily.
Opperly shrugged his helplessness. "No, I don't think you'll change your aims."
Clouds encroaching from the west blotted the parallelogram of sunlight between the two men.