“You doubt that I am your intellectual superior,” Tony said calmly. “Of course you do. That’s your trouble.”

I bit back the yell of outrage that was right on the tip of my tongue. He wanted me to lose my temper; that would prove my emotional immaturity.

I leaned back on the couch, crossed my legs, and took a deep breath. Tony’s eyes glazed, but he didn’t move.

“And how,” I inquired, practicing deep breathing, “do you propose to convince me?”

Tony was a funny color. With some effort he dragged his eyes away from my torso and stared at the fire.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. “But I will.”

“Let me know when you do.” I fell back onto the couch, hands clasped behind my head. I kicked off one of my shoes. “Did I tell you I expect to have two articles published by the end of the year? How are you coming with the one you started last fall?”

That was too much. Tony growled and lunged. I was ready for him; I slid out from underneath and stood looking fondly down on him as he sprawled awkwardly across the couch.

“Since you are going to dominate me mentally, there’s no point in this sort of thing,” I said, slipping my foot back into my shoe. “Call me when you’re ready to start dominating.”

He was ready sooner than I expected.

It was one of those awful March days in the Midwest, when ice and snow and sleet seem doubly outrageous because they follow a few days of mild weather. Slogging along through the slush, I was not in my best mood, even though the evening ahead looked interesting. Tony was about to share one of his finds with me—a man, not a theory of history. Jacob Myers was one of the big wheels in our little town. Actually, he was the only wheel of any size. One of his ancestors had donated the land on which the university was built; the family automobile plant was the leading industry. The public library, the main street, and the park were all named after members of the clan. Having too much money (if that is possible) and a weakness for culture, Myers dispensed fellowships and research grants with a lavish hand. Oddly enough, one of the few faculty members who hadn’t profited from this generosity was Tony, though his father and Myers were lodge brothers, or something. I happened to know—though not from Tony—that he had even paid back the money Myers had loaned him to finish graduate school. Myers hadn’t liked that. My informant declared the old man used to light his cigars with Tony’s checks until Tony threatened to leave the town and the university.

I never said Tony lacked good qualities.

Anyhow, this was the night on which I was destined to meet the great man. And if he was inclined to throw any research money my way, I was fully prepared to accept it.