advertising? He may talk as if he owned the
_Times_, but he doesn't."

Griblo gave a nasty laugh. "No, he doesn't, but if the Terran edition
didn't show a profit, it'd fold quicker than you can flip your wings and
he'd have to go back to nasty old up-to-date Fizbus as a lowly
sub-editor. And he wouldn't like that one bit. Our Stet, as you may have
noticed, is fond of running things to suit himself."

"But Mr. Grupe told me that the _Times_ isn't interested in money. It's
running this edition of the paper only as a service to--oh, I suppose
all that was a lot of birdseed, too!"

"Grupe!" Griblo snorted. "The sanctimonious old buzzard! He's a big
stockholder on the paper. Bet you didn't know that, did you? All they're
out for is money. Fizbian money, Terrestrial money--so long as it's
cash."

"Tell me, Griblo," Tarb asked, "what does 'When in Rome, do as the
Romans do' mean?"

Griblo grinned sourly. "Stet's favorite motto." He moved along the seat
closer to her. "I'll tell you what it means, chicken. When on Earth,
don't be a Fizbian."

* * * * *

The consul's wife, an old mauve creature, did not seem overpleased to
see Tarb, since the younger, prettier Fizbian definitely took the
spotlight away from her. The press had, of course, seen Tarb before, but
at that time they hadn't been able to communicate directly with her and
they didn't, she now found out, think nearly as much of Stet as he did
of them.

Tarb couldn't attempt to deviate much from Stet's questions, for the
consul's wife was not very cooperative and the consul himself watched
both women narrowly. He was a good friend of Stet's, Tarb knew, and
apparently Stet had taken the other man into his confidence.

When the interviews were over and the consular party had left, Tarb
remained to chat with the Terrestrial journalists. Despite Griblo's
worried objections, she joined them in the Moonfield Restaurant, where
she daringly partook of a cup of coffee and then another and another.

After that, things weren't very clear. She dimly remembered the other
reporters assuring her that she shouldn't disfigure her lovely wings
with a stole ... and then pirouetting in the air over the bar to
prolonged applause ... and then she was in the taxi again with Griblo
shaking her.

"Wake up, Tarb--we're almost at the office! Stet'll have me plucked for
this!"

Tarb sat up and pushed her crest out of her eyes. The sky was growing
dark.