Chapter 8

Gloria Hanford opened her apartment door, made a double take when she saw the living room lights were on, toted up the list of unexpected guests, and assessed the situation in one brief moment. She stopped short on one high heel, pivoted, and said to her escort, “Not tonight, Joseph!”

“But—”

“I’ve guests,” she said, placing a hand flat on her escort’s chest.

“But—”

“My guests mean trouble,” she finished, shoving. Her escort disappeared—walking backward and still trying to protest.

Gloria closed the living room door with a gesture of finality, then turned to lean back against it. She faced her unexpected guests with an air of exasperated patience, as if by her silence she was inviting them to hurl the first bolt and by her attitude confident that she could turn it aside with ease.

She did not have long to wait.

They all started to talk at once. The resulting babble was unintelligible and the sound of the others’ voices made each one of them stop without finishing. Silence fell again, and in the calm, Scholar Ross spoke up:

“Under the circumstances, Miss Hanford, I think we have the right to ask that you explain your actions.”

Mr. Harrison grunted. “I say this is a waste of time. Let’s get along with it.”

Mrs. Harrison added, “Yes indeed, Scholar Ross. If you’ll call the authorities, we’ll sign the complaint.”

Mrs. Hanford snapped, “I resent the implication that my daughter is wholly and solely in the wrong.”

Mr. Hanford said, “In my opinion, Bertram Harrison isn’t bright enough to come in out of the rain, let alone being smart enough to know what’s good for him. Now—”

Mr. Harrison growled, “We come calling this evening and find our son deep under the influence of tranquilizers and the catalytic action of the mood music prescribed for this philandering young hussy—”

“I’m no philanderer!” cried Gloria. “I’m not married to your cold lump of lard!”

Scholar Ross spread out his hands in a gesture of supplication, as if he were pleading with the gods for a return to sanity. “Stop it!” he cried. “Stop it!”

He turned to Mrs. Hanford with a shake of the head. “I am sorry. Your resentment of the fact that this affair is your daughter’s responsibility is not going to change it.”

“But he’s—”

“Please, Mrs. Hanford. This engagement is not a matter of the personal choice of the participants. It gravely concerns Society. Now, insofar as the Department of Domestic Tranquility is concerned, it is the excitable, headstrong, unruly, willful personality that is dangerous to social stability. The calm and placid ones do not commit acts of violence. Indeed, Mrs. Hanford, were it not for the quiet, phlegmatic personality like Bertram Harrison, we in genetics would have a hard time finding a useful niche for belligerents such as your daughter Gloria.”

Gloria Hanford said something under her breath. Scholar Ross eyed her suspiciously and demanded that she repeat.

“Cliche Sixteen,” she retorted. “It pertains to the problem of leading horses to water.”

He nodded. “Yes. The horse is laudably exercising as much free will as his equine position permits him. The same platitude can also be employed to point out that blind stubbornness may prevent him from doing something that is really a good idea even if someone else did think of it first.”

“I say enough of this nonsense!” snapped Mr. Harrison. “Let’s get this debate over with!”

“Now, just a moment,” said Scholar Ross. “You have no legal standing. Miss Hanford is Bertram Harrison’s affianced wife. Under law, any difficulties between them are strictly a civic matter. Bluntly, sir, only the party being damaged can sign a complaint, and after making a complaint it is up to the complaining party to prove that he is being damaged at the will of the accused.”

“Scholar Ross, you and your Department of Domestic Tranquility may know how you hope to maintain a calm and stable social structure, but you don’t know much about the law,” said Mr. Harrison slowly and carefully. “One only need go back to the early days of common law to find a rather terse discussion of the proposition of maintaining an attractive nuisance. The owner of the attractive nuisance has a responsibility to the gullible citizens who are attracted.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” said Mr. Harrison, “that Miss Hanford in this pre-marriage apartment did maintain a series of attractive nuisances. Tranquilizer pills. Soothing mood music. A person of calm tendencies would find them most attractive. It was therefore her responsibility to protect the other party. Now—when Bertram has been properly treated and is able to testify—I think we’ll find that Miss Hanford not only failed to protect Bertram, but indeed encouraged him to help himself to her pills and sleep in her bedroom under the soothing influence of the mood music prescribed for her.”