I think you should do it, Doc. Dad would kill me..." I doubt that," the psychiatrist returned casually, "I doubt any man could turn you down."I smiled...weakly at him. "What do I do?" Why don't you talk to my daughter?" he asked. "She's rather qualified in these matters, I must say, and it would be easier to talk to a person closer in age. Let me just page her."Before I could ask him how his daughter was 'qualified in these matters,' Doc Malwinch had buzzed her on the intercom. From the previous. His fingers were covered with tiny cuts. He shrugged at her scrutiny and looked embarrassed.“What in the world have you been doing?” she said.“I was taking the thorns off the roses.”She wanted to laugh but was sure he’d be too insulted. “Why would you do a thing like that? And without gloves?”“You always do it without gloves. It's traditional.”“A Welsh tradition?”“A family one. My mother did it in the summer. She said that in the earthly paradise, roses had no thorns. You take them off by hand. More

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