assed spacemen, mostly officers dressed in parade uniforms,
chatted in space-pidgin with the laughing, rainbow-haired girls.

Miss Bestris sat in one corner, her eyes roving the room: settling here
for a second, there for a second, checking, approving, disapproving,
silently. Occasionally she would smile or nod at one of the girls or one
of the spacemen, and once she frowned ever so slightly and shook her
head.

Anne was reclining on a couch, eating a golden Martian apple, listening
to a second mate; she played with a lock of his hair and smiled her wide
smile.

June, angelic, sat primly in a straight-backed chair, the captain at her
feet, a boyish, space-pale Earthman, drew embarrassed circles on the
carpet with his index finger.

In the next room, three couples were dancing to the slow music of an
Earth orchestra.

An inner door opened, and a uniformed native sheriff stepped in, a
crisp, military figure. "Miss Bestris?"

She stood up. "Yes?"

The Earthmen fell silent, waiting.

"We think we have your runaway." He turned to the door. "Bring her in."

Two more sheriffs entered, and between them, there was a young, slender
girl. Her face was gaunt and tear-stained. Her body trembled. She looked
at the Madame fearfully.

"You idiots!" Miss Bestris screamed. "Get her out of here! You'll ruin
my party! Take her out!"

The two men removed the girl. To the remaining sheriff, Miss Bestris
said, "Damn you, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll ...
I'll...."

"I'm sorry, Madame. But we wanted immediate identification. Would you
want us to hold the wrong girl?"

"That's her, all right! Now, get out! Wait for me in my office."

When they were gone Miss Bestris turned to the silent room. In quite
passable Esperanto she said, "I--am sorry. A misunderstanding. I assure
you, nothing. Go on with the party, and I'll see what I can do for the
poor girl."

She stood up and in her own language said, "Lively, girls! Smile! You,
Rita, hurry and serve tea!"

She made her exit.

The spacemen grumbled among themselves, coughed uneasily, watched the
closed door through which the Madame had gone. Listening, they could
hear only a muted mumble of sing-song sounds in several voices.

With determined animation, the girls moved about, smiled, chatted.

Rita came in, wheeling the tea tray, and the girls converged on it, each
trying to be the first to serve her escort. The tea was the Martian
stuff, concocted of a kind