“The love life of microbes,” I said. “So far scientists have only considered the propagation of microbes in terms of guinea pigs. No one has ever considered it from the standpoint of the microbe. Now, when I refer to the love life of a microbe, you are doubtless inclined to interpret it in terms of your own—”

“I haven’t any,” she interrupted.

“—outlook on life,” I went on smoothly without paying any attention to her interruption. “Now, given an even temperature, a reasonable amount of nourishing food, microbes become exceedingly ardent. In fact, the—”

She held up her hand palm outward as though she were pushing the words back in my mouth. “That’s enough of that God damn tripe,” she said. “It’s glib but it isn’t good lying because nobody cares. Tell me the truth. Do you know one single damn thing about microbes?”

“No,” I told her.

Her eyes glittered. “How did you stop them from pushing you around when you were in college?”

“I’d prefer not to go into that—if you want the truth.”

“I want the truth, and I want the information.”

“I use my head. I have been called mean,” I said. “Everyone has to protect himself in life. When he’s weak somewhere, nature makes him strong elsewhere. I figure things out. I always have. If a man starts pushing me around, I find a way to make him stop, and before I’m through he’s sorry he ever started pushing. I don’t mind hitting below the belt if I have to. I guess I even get a kick out of it. That’s because of the way I’m made. A little runt is apt to be mean.

“Now if you’re through amusing yourself at my expense, I’ll be going. I hate being laughed at. Some day you’ll find it’s been rather expensive amusement. I’ll work out a scheme and get even with you.”

She sighed, not the wheezy sigh of a fatigued fat woman, but a sigh that marked a load off her mind. She picked up the telephone on her desk, and said, “Elsie, Donald Lam gets the job. Clear that riffraff out of the office. Put a sign on the door that the position has been filled. There have been enough bums in the office for one day.”

She slammed the receiver back on its hook, opened a drawer, took out some papers and started reading. After a few moments, I heard the scrape of chairs and muffled sounds from the outer office as the waiting applicants filed out.

I sat still, speechless with surprise, waiting.

“Got any money?” the woman asked abruptly.

“Yes,” I said, and then added after a moment, “some.”

“How much?”

“Enough to last me,” I told her, “for a while.”