I took the test strip from the drying rack with tongs and carried it across the lab to the worktable of Mary Goodbody. If there was ever a misnamed woman it was Mary, for the poor dear was terribly obese. But she was sweet-tempered and an absolutely first-rate "nose." She looked up as I came near.

"Mary," I said, "I hate to interrupt, but would you take a sniff of this and tell me if it reminds you of anything."

"Sure," she said cheerfully. "Hand it over." , She took the tongs and passed the strip quickly beneath her nostrils, taking a small sniff. "Odd," she said.

She brought the strip closer to her nose and inhaled deeply.

She was obviously as puzzled as I had been because she stared at the stained blotting paper a moment, shaking her head.

"Does it recall anything to you?" I asked.

She took another whiff of the diluted hormone, and her eyes closed.

She was silent for almost a minute. Then her eyes popped open.

"Got it!" she said triumphantly.

"What is it?" I said excitedly. "What does the scent recall?

"Mauve," she said.

You know, she was completely correct. The smell of oxytocin produced a memory of mauve. It was the first time in my professional life that a scent had called up a recollection of a color.

I bent to kiss Mary's cheek. "You're wonderful," I told her, "and right, as usual. Thank you so very much."

"What is that stuff?" she asked curiously, handing back my sample.

"Something new," I said, and sailed back to my worktable considerably elated. The recalled memory of mauve fit Darcy amp; Sons' prospectus perfectly. They wanted Cuddle to be a "soft, sentimental, and nostalgic" fragrance. What color fit those specifications better than mauve?

I wasn't yet ready to test the aerosolized oxytocin on my skin. I first had to determine its effects on mood and behavior.

If it proved to have none or had deleterious effects, it would simply have to be discarded.

Our most recent company newsletter had reported the pharmaceutical division was working on a new nasal decongestant to be packaged in an inhaler. I took the elevator up to their enormous lab and asked one of the chemists, Tony Siddons, if I could have any empty plastic inhalers.

He gave me three of them.

I returned to my own lab and spent the remainder of the afternoon carefully packing one of the inhalers with sterile cotton batting that had been saturated with synthetic oxytocin.

Finished, I plugged the inhaler into my nose, once in each nostril, and inhaled deeply. I had an almost instantaneous physical reaction. I was flooded with warmth, a condition somewhat akin to a hot flash. And I felt a mild tingling in my extremities. But these symptoms lasted no more than a minute or two. Then I went down to the garage to drive Greg Barrow back to Rustling Palms Estates.

We were almost home, chatting of inconsequential things, when Greg said,

"Would you drop me at the Seven-Eleven, please, Marleen. Mabel phoned and wants me to pick up a quart of milk.

I'll walk home from there."

"Of course, darling," I said. "But there's no need for you to walk home, I'll wait for you, sweetheart."

He turned slowly to look at me. "There's really no need for you to wait," he said. "I'm sure you're anxious to get home."

"No problem, " I said gaily. "Herman is taking a client to dinner tonight, and Tania and I are just having a salad. No cooking to do, so I'll be delighted to wait for you, dear."

He said nothing more until I pulled into our driveway.

Before he could get out of the car, I grabbed his arm, yanked him close and kissed his cheek.

"Have a wonderful, wonderful evening," I said. "And sleep well. I love you, Greg."

"Thank you," he said faintly, and hastened away.

Tania was downstairs, setting the table in the dining nook.

"Hello, you beautiful thing!" I caroled. "You look so charming in your jeans and T-shirt. Give Mother a great big kiss."

She complied but then drew away to stare at me. "You okay?" she asked.

"Never felt better in my life," I said, laughing. "Give me another hug," Herman came downstairs, showered, shaved, and dressed for his dinner.

Well, don't you look handsome!" I cried, embracing him. "I married a movie star!"

He pulled away to inspect me. "If I didn't know better," he said, "I'd say you had a few."

"Love your jokes!" I said. "Just love them! Oh, honey, hurry home as soon as you can." I looked around to make certain Tania couldn't hear.

"Sweetie," I whispered, "you and I are going to have such fun tonight.

It's been a long, long time, but tonight we'll make up for it. I love you, Herm."

"Yeah," he said. "Sure." And he left hastily.

I heard myself chattering nonstop during dinner. But before it was finished, I became so sleepy I knew I had to get to bed before I collapsed into the salad bowl.

"Mommy is going to take a nap," I said brightly to Tania. "Now you finish your dinner like the angel you are, and I'll come down later and clean up. I love you, sweetheart. Love you, love you, love you!"

I managed to get upstairs but I was too sleepy to undress.

I fell atop the bed fully clothed and was instantly asleep. I never did go downstairs to clean up the kitchen, and I wasn't aware of my husband coming home. I slept for twelve hours.

All my dreams were colored mauve.

I got maybe ten phone calls a month, at the most, and three or four of them were usually wrong numbers, Late in May my phone rang one evening, and I couldn't imagine who it might be unless the cops were calling to tell me my nutsy brother was in the hoosegow and needed bail.

But it turned out to be my niece, Tania, and I laughed.

"Hiya, honey," I said. "It's good to hear from you.

Behaving yourself?"

"Of course I am," she said, very primly. "I called to thank you for that book you gave me which you autographed."

"My pleasure," I said.

"Did you read it?"

"Yes, I did. I liked Tommy Termite-he was funny-and I think you should write another book about him."

"I'm happy you said that, Tania, because that's exactly what I'm doing.

In the new book Tommy meets a girl termite and falls in love." , III "That's very nice," she said approvingly, and then she was silent.

I began to get a little uneasy.

"Everything all right?" I asked.

"Uncle Chas," she said finally, "will you do me a favor? A big favor?"

"Of course I will, honey. What is it?"

"Could you send me some money?"

I was startled. I was sure the kid got an allowance, and I wasn't certain if Marleen would approve of my giving cash to her daughter.

"How much do you want, Tania?"

"A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

A hundred dollars?" she said hopefully. "I really need it."

That was a stun. "Can you tell me what you need it for? "

"It's a secret," she said.

At first I thought she might want to buy her mother or father an expensive birthday present, but then I recalled both their birthdays were in November.

"A secret?" I said. "Well, you can tell me. I promise not to repeat it."

"Not to anyone?"

"Not to a soul. Scout's honor."

"Well, " she said slowly, "I want to give it to a friend."

"Oh?" I said. "Boy or girl?"

A long silence, then, "Boy."

"What boy?"

"Just a boy," she said.

Now I was really concerned. If she had said she wanted to buy a birthday present for a boy, that would have been okay I guess. But I didn't like the idea of her giving a hundred bucks to some nameless boy.

I had visions of some kiddie extortion racket going on here.

"I'm not asking you to give me the money, Uncle Chas," she said earnestly. "I want to borrow it. I'll pay you back, really I will."

"You don't want to ask your mother or father for it?