North looked suddenly angry, like a schoolboy faced with a tattletale. "That's enough, Van!"
Van Ostrand's piggish eyes and his soft voice both became suddenly cold. "Remember your place, Mr. North."
North subsided.
"In the second place," Van Ostrand went on, his voice soft and oily again, "we are all of the persuasion that there are more important things in life than money."
Nikki Varden had been basing her actions on the obvious fact that in order to get her to sign anything and get it through any of her big holding corporations, they would have to keep her definitely and indisputably alive and conscious. But if it wasn't her money that was wanted....
Her face went suddenly white. "What do you want?" she said, in an almost inaudible voice.
"For the nonce," said Van Ostrand, "only your continued co-operation. Believe me, dear child, we have no desire whatever to dispatch you untimely from this, our present sphere of corporal existence. On the other hand, we have no compunctions against it, either. Our choice will depend on your choice."
"What do you want?" she repeated. Her color was beginning to come back.
"Right now, you can just sit comfortably and relax. If you wish, I would be happy to turn on the tri-di. You can watch a program and take your mind from your troubles."
"No thanks," she said.