It gets difficult to handle theproblem of a man who has a real talentthat you need badly—and he cannotuse it if he knows it's honest!
omfortable positions, waiting for Dr. Al's comments.
"No miracles this time!" Ormond began briskly. He smiled.
Mrs. Folsom said, "Dr. Al--"
He looked over at her. "Yes, Eleanor?"
Eleanor Folsom hesitated, shook her head. "No," she said. "Go on. I'm sorry I interrupted."
"That's all right." Dr. Al gave her a warm smile. It had been, he continued, a successful exercise, a very promising first attempt, in spite of the lack of an immediate materialization, which, of course, had been only a remote possibility to start with. He had no fault to find with the quality of the group's effort. He had sensed it ... as they, too, presently would be able to sense it ... as a smooth flow of directed energy. With a little more practice ... one of these days ...
Cavender stifled one yawn, concealed another which didn't allow itself to be stifled behind a casually raised hand. He watched Ormond move over to the prop table, put the wooden plate down beside the red suitcase without interr
