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on her friend, and there was a certain quality of constraint in her poise which defied the creeping flaccidity of her limbs as the gin permeated her blood.

"You seem to know a great deal about departmental policy and procedure, Quilly. I never realized you had any contact with the government—not to that extent."

The other woman's smile seemed warm and genuine enough. "Don't get worried, darling. I know a great deal that perhaps I shouldn't know. I've got an inquiring mind."

"What else do you know?"

"That you're a beautiful and desirable woman. There, does that make you feel better?"

"Should it?"

Again the enigmatic gloss in the pale pink eyes. A faint sense of alarm clutched icily at Aubretia's heart. She returned to her seat and finished her drink, then touched Aquilegia's arm with nervous fingers.

"Quilly, you're not getting fed up with me, are you?"

"Of course not, darling. I'm teasing you, really. Tell me, when the Mistress of Information talked about the syndrome, did you understand her?"

"Vaguely. It had to do with evolution. How women had adapted themselves to parthenogentic existence without men. Then she said something about modifying the emotions."

Aquilegia nodded soberly. "Do you feel that your emotions have been modified?"

"Of course not."

"Life seems perfectly normal to you: life and love and parthenogenesis?"

"Yes, Quilly. Shouldn't it?"

"The Mistress of Information told you that the male sex died off because they were no longer necessary."

"Yes. She said nature had found there was no further need for variants because we had learned how to adapt the en-