He looked at Betsy, thinking of his talk with her. He remembered how she had brushed aside any thought that the kids might be harmed by Marcia.

Was she right? Were the kids so stable emotionally that nothing Marcia could bring into their world would seriously harm them? Remembering Sue who had come to flirt with him with her four-year-old eyes, it was not hard to believe that Betsy was right.

Also there was Betsy's discussion of what might happen to Marcia. Betsy had argued, Tom remembered, that Marcia might well learn to fit, that she would find all the old rules by which she had lived outside the clan so completely inadequate that she would be forced to learn from scratch.

Was that right, he wondered. After the initial period when she would be learning how little she knew, would she then be able to learn like a child, without undue prejudice, just because her background was so different? It was possible, he had to admit.

And finally he looked at Pete. Pete had argued that it was not immoral to take in Marcia for economic reasons, that it was not like marrying a girl for her money. Economics were an integral and avowed part of the clan idea; and certainly the moralities of a clan had to be different from those of a monogamist marriage. Yes, he had to admit that he thought Pete's arguments sound. There was a different ethics here. There had to be. What the true ethics would say of the case of Marcia, he did not know. But at least he could not lightly dismiss it all as simply and obviously immoral. It could not be that simple.

As Tom looked at them and pondered what he should say, the answer suddenly came to him. It came to him like a revelation, and he felt as if something inside of him had broken, something that had hampered and restricted him, even without his knowing it. He felt free, suddenly, free and exultant.

He smiled at them and said: "When Ricky told me this afternoon, I was afraid; as I talked to several of you since that time, I continued to be afraid. And I was afraid when I came here tonight. But now, as I look at your bright faces, I am no longer. You and I are the clan, and the clan is stronger than anyone outside. Not Marcia, nor Graves, nor anyone else can break it; only we can break it--only we, by losing faith in it. I know now that I have not had the faith that I should have. The faith in you, and in us, and in our relations to each other. As I stood here looking at the faces of those I talked to, and remembering what you said, it came to me how foolish I have been.

"I don't know whether this thing is right or not; I don't know what its ultimate result will be. Maybe it will be good, and maybe bad. But if it's bad, it won't be so bad as to be a disaster. The clan will survive anything that may come of it, and may even be the stronger for it. And if the results are good, why then of course everyone will be the winner for it. No, I don't know what the results will be, but now I am willing to face whatever they are without fear, and with confidence in the clan.

"My vote will be to accept Marcia." He sat down feeling quite at peace with himself for the first time in what seemed like a long, long time.

As Ricky came forward to take the floor again, and ask for further discussion, Tom looked around. Sandy, he saw, was looking at him with a smile in her eyes. She approved, he knew. And so did Betsy. She was watching him with a warm look that spoke her feelings. Pete was staring off into s.p.a.ce, no doubt following down some logical train.

The others were each reacting in their separate ways. Paul was interested but probably had no idea of what it really was about. Rita, in her maternal self-absorption, was not really concerned. Polly was watching him with sympathy for him as a man, but not with any basic understanding. Sam, with his dead-pan face was hard to read. His penetrating eyes saw deeply, but what they saw was hard to tell. Herb was looking around him with awkward movements; he was probably feeling very shy at the thought of a new member. Marcia, Tom thought, might well be good for him, teach him a greater social finesse.

And there was Joan, leaning forward intently, no doubt wondering how Marcia would affect the artistic balance of the group. Mike was looking interested but not concerned. And Esther was sitting back in her chair with a vague smile on her lips. Probably, Tom thought with a mental chuckle, she was already planning some suitable induction ceremony.

From here on out, Tom sensed, it was only a matter of formality. Other discussion there would be; arguments, perhaps. But in the end, Marcia would be admitted by unanimous vote. And he was content that it be so.