Earl looked up with a smile. "Hello, Basil. How's things going with you and Irene?"
Basil smiled wryly. "Well ... at least she's discovered that I'm a pretty fair dancer. She envies you. I guess I do too. You have all the luck."
"Nonsense! Discovering the right substance was like winning the Irish Sweepstakes."
"That's what I mean. You did nothing more than any of the rest of us. It was pure chance that the right stuff was on a tray given to you to test. But in the history books your name will get the credit—just like it took brains."
Earl shrugged. "I'm afraid all our names will be left out. Dr. Glassman will get the credit. He master-minded the whole thing. He deserves the credit, too. The rest of us are just damned good chemists. That's all. He took the risks. If it hadn't paid off, the Dome would have been known as Glassman's Folly."
"Something in that," Basil said. "By the way, what have you found out about Nadine? You two seem quite palsy walsy now."
"She's what she claims to be," Earl said.
"Is she?" Basil said, his eyes narrowing. "I think you're lying. Matter of fact, you're different than you were. What's come over you?"
"Nothing, Basil."
"Nothing, he says," Basil said mournfully to the bench he was sitting on. "What's happened to you? Have you been bought?"