ptos on Earth and we
can't import any from Home because the natives--" Miss Snow
smiled--"don't have the right kind of power here to run psychic
installations. All prosifying has to be done directly on prosifying
machines or--" he paused--"by foot."

"Catch her!" Miss Snow exclaimed in Terran.

Everything had gone maroon for Tarb again. As she fell, she could hear a
sudden thump. It was, she later discovered, Drosmig falling off his
perch again--the result of insecure grip, she was given to understand,
rather than excessive empathy.

* * * * *

"I didn't mean, of course, to give you the impression that we actually
produce the individual copies of the papers ourselves," Stet explained
over the dinner table that night. "We have native printers who do that.
They've turned out some really remarkable Fizbian type fonts." "Very
clever of them," Tarb said, knowing that was what she was expected to
say. She glanced around the restaurant. In their low-cut evening
garments, the Terrestrial females looked much less Fizboid than they had
during the day. All that naked-looking skin; one would think they'd want
to cover it. Probably they were sick with jealousy of her beautiful
rose-colored down--what they could see of it, anyway.

"Of course, our real problem is getting proofreaders. The proofing
machines won't operate here either, of course, and so we need human
personnel. But what Fizbian would do such degrading work? We had thought
of convict labor, but--"

"Why mustn't I take off my wrap?" Tarb interrupted. "No one else is
wearing one."

Stet coughed. "You'll feel much less self-conscious about your wings if
you keep it on. And try not to use your feet so conspicuously. I'm sure
everyone understands you need them to eat with, but--"

"But I'm not in the least self-conscious about my wings. On Fizbus, they
were considered rather nice-looking, if I do say so myself."

"It's better," he said firmly, "not to emphasize the differences between
the natives and ourselves. You didn't object to wearing a Terrestrial
costume, did you?"

"No, I realize I must make some concessions to native prudery, but--"

"Matter of fact, I've been thinking it would be a good idea for you to
wear a stole or a cape or something in the daytime when you go to and
from the office. You wouldn't want to make yourself or the _Times_
conspicuous, I'm sure.... No, waiter, no coffee. We'll take champagne."

"I want to t