The last phrase brought a vague reassurance to Vance. Of course they couldn't guarantee anything … of course little O'Fallery might get the prize. Vance had read "Limp Collars," and thought it well-named … pretty poor stuff… . Seemed a pity… . Anyhow, he saw with relief that he must have misunderstood Rauch. Of course The Hour wasn't going to try to corrupt the judges—what an absurdity! They were simply going to direct public opinion: that was what "limelight" meant. Any fellow's publisher had a right to commend his goods… .

Laura Lou had been captivated by a girl who sat near them at the theatre in a peach-coloured silk … or lace, or something … not a patch on Laura Lou, the girl wasn't, but even Vance could see there was a look about the dress… . His Laura Lou! There wouldn't be one of 'em could touch her if only he could give her togs like that… .

"When she moves, you see

Like water from a crystal overflowed,

Fresh beauty tremble out of her, and lave

Her fair sides to the ground … "

He shut his eyes on the vision and thought: "And yet even the ones that look like that want finery!"

"Of course I'd like that prize first-rate," he mumbled.

"Well, I guess it's yours—on the merit of the story alone. Only, our job is to get that merit known," Eric Rauch explained patiently, as they rose to get their hats and coats. They walked back together to the office, and before Vance left he had signed the two contracts which lay ready for him on Tarrant's desk: one surrendering to The Hour all his serial rights for three years, the other pledging him for the same period of time to Dreck and Saltzer for book publication.

On the way downstairs, late in the afternoon, he remembered meeting Frenside coming down the same stairs in the morning, and recalled his warning: "Keep free."

"Oh, well," Vance said to himself, "what's he made of his life, anyway?" For Frenside already seemed to him as remote as old age and failure. His head was brimming with ideas for his article, and for others to follow, and it was agreed (at his suggestion) that the series should appear under the caption of "The Cocoanut Tree," in memory of the spot where the bargain had been struck. "I want a tree to climb, to get a bird's-eye view from," Vance had said, laughing; and Rauch replied that he was sure the title would take Tarrant's fancy. He pressed a copy of his poems on Vance, and the latter set off, his heart beating high at the thought of announcing to Laura Lou that he was a member of the editorial staff of The Hour, had signed a three years' contract with a big publisher. "She won't understand what it's all about, but it'll sound good to her," he thought. And so it did to him.