"In a minute, Miss Francis. It's a honey, isnt it? Paid fourbits to a funhouse in Utica, New York, for it. Tell me, how did you come to make your great discovery?"
"I was born. I went to school. I read books. I reached maturity. I looked through a microscope."
"Yes?" prodded Gootes.
"That's all."
"Lassie," urged Gootes, underlining the honey of his voice with a tantalizing glimpse of a rapidfire snatching of three colored handkerchiefs out of the air, "tis no sensible course ye follow. Think, gurrl, what the press can do to a recalcitrant lass like yoursel. Ye wouldna like it if tomorrow's paper branded you—and I quote—'an unsexed harpy, a traitor to mankind, a heartless, soulless—'"
"Oh, shut up. What do you want to know?"
"First," said Gootes briskly, "what is this stuff?"
"The Metamorphizer?"
He nodded.