George rallied and attacked. "I haven't any, Miss Manson. I didn't ask for your name. It was submitted to me as a possibility from the Dee Lish Company. You needn't worry, however. You are displaying adequate reasons for me to disqualify your entry right now."
"Oh, an advertising stunt, is it? Harry, this is your idea ... you and that pap purveyor!"
"But Gloria, think of the publicity ... the big parade with the man from Mars! Why your play would run for years!"
"OK, I'll do it!" she said with a big smile and watched the ad-men's gloomy faces change to astonished delight. "There's just one little thing ... if I win!" She prodded Harry in the chest with a long stiff finger.
"Yes, dear ... anything!"
"YOU have the baby!" The scowl came back to her face. "You utter idiots ... you misfired missiles! How in the Universe do you think I can play a romantic lead wearing a maternity dress?"
George chuckled with delight at the thought and she turned on him.
"What's so funny, Doctor? And what do you mean I'm disqualified from the contest? What's wrong with me?"
"Not a thing, Miss Manson." He grinned happily at her. "But if you can stand having dinner with a man in an old-fashioned suit, I'll tell you why Mother America should be a contented cow instead of a tantalizing tigress."
"Hm, this is one orbit I haven't travelled." She smiled and nodded her approval. "Set me a course, Navigator."