Waiting alone in the study, by the fiercely-staring portrait she so loathed, with the unconquered faint traffic hum wafting in from outside, the wholly heartbroken Oddman thought once more of tall Trader Charity, the sensitive genius who had known her in ways even she did not suspect. He was now, according to father, the hapless captive of mind-devouring space aliens.
   At long last came an abrupt fanfare from the long-silent trumpets, and she somehow knew that her heart had been right all along. He was here! “I’ve been mad, simply mad, without you to douse my fires, my darling!” he husked.
   Abruptly, the glow of renewed love gradually overcame her mounting desire for dinner, and as he dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief she herself had made for him, she took a moment to plan some of the details of their pre-nuptial agreement.