"It seems such a shame, too," Sandra said. "But after all, I suppose he's a public enemy."
Marmaduke, at Sandra's party, strutted like a rooster among a dozen of her close friends. The sight sickened Sandra, but it made her glad at the same time. There was not another man in the world with conceit. The gland extract had eliminated man's worst failing.
When the others left, Sandra turned on her guest of honor.
"I don't think you were very modest," she said. "In old times a criminal didn't crow about his crimes, he was ashamed. You acted like a national hero."
"After all, I am, am I not?"
"You didn't need to date up all of my friends!"
A slow smile crept across Marmaduke's face. He looked nicer even than he had in Commander General Adstrom's office. There was more color in his cheeks and he had gained weight. There was a trace of devilishness in his eyes. Somehow, Sandra felt sorry to find it there. She was part of the plot to bring about this criminal's execution.
"So that's it, is it?" Marmaduke asked.
"What's what?"