"Say, Pat, here's a little item that should interest you," I said, and pretended to read. "Lovely woman scientist, possible Nobel prize winner, knits little things and dreams of rose-covered cottage. I always wanted at least ten children, our reporter quotes Mrs.—" I started loudly, cocking one eye over the top of the paper; but I didn't finish.
Pat got up abruptly. For an instant I thought she would throw the wool at me, needles and all.
"You stinker ... you absolute stinker," she spat at me, and almost ran from the room.
"Lord! She must be getting stir crazy," I said, bewildered.
"John, sometimes I think you spent too many years overseas," Hallam said quietly. "You still can't imagine how a woman thinks."
That broke up the crib game. Neither of us had the heart to continue. For the first time I really began to imagine a world full of sterile people; the falling population; the frustrated family life; the emptying houses; the already empty schools.
"God, what a dreary prospect," I said aloud. "And we were worrying about overpopulation."
The Chief caught my train of thought but he just nodded. There was no answer.
An hour later the phone rang. He answered it and then turned to me with a smile. "That was a report from Smith about the ovaries of those convalescent ferrets I inoculated with the first cases of flu. They seem OK. Maybe it affects only a few females after all."
"Well, we can't go peeking into the tummies of all the ladies in Vancouver just to find out," I said.