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. And he needs
some backbone. I'm going to equip him with one."
Schultz looked thoughtfully at Gwen. "Yes, I think you have enough for two.
Madam, may I say that, while I do not yeam to emulate you, I do strongly admire
you?"
"I hate to see anything go to waste. Bill is about twenty-five, I think,
but he acts and talks as if he were ten or twelve. Yet he is not stupid." She
grinned. "Ah'll lam him if'n I have to bust his pesky haid!"
"More power to you." Schultz added gently, "But suppose he does turn out to
be simply stupid? Lacking the capacity to grow up?"
Gwen sighed. "Then I guess I would cry a bit and find him some protected
place, where he could work at what he can do and be whatever he is, in dignity
and in comfort. Reverend, I could not send him back down to the dirt and the
hunger and the fear-and the rats. Living like that is worse than dying."
"Yes, it is. For dying is not to be feared-it is the final comfort. As we
all leam, eventually. Very well, a sincere passport for Bill. I'll have to find
a certain lady-see whether or not she can accept a rush assignment." He frowned.
"It will be difficult to do this before the next shuttle. And I must have a
photograph of him. Plague take it!-that means a trip to my studio. More lost
time, more risk for you two."
Gwen reached into her purse, pulled out a Mini Helvetia- illegal without a
license most places but probably not covered by Manager's regulations here
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