the ceiling. Beneath it, stiff, embarrassed 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 of local hemp. The Earthmen found it harsh and bitter to the taste, but gentle on the soul.

Anne had filled two cups and returned to the second mate when she caught sight of Mary coming down the stairs.

On the lowest step, Mary stood for a long time; her eyes eagerly searched the crowd. Slowly a puzzled, hurt look came over her face.

June came to her side after a little while.

"Isn't he here?"

"No. Not yet."

"I'm sorry," June said, touching Mary's arm lightly.

"It's all right. It's early yet. I'll just sit down by Miss Bestris' chair and wait for him."

She turned from June and went to the chair. Before she could sit down, a space corporal came over, bowed, tried to take her hand. She shook her head. He smiled twistedly and walked stiffly away.

Another man smiled at her. She shook her head slowly.

Someone came in the front door, and she leaned forward. Then she slumped back limply.

She heard a tinkly laugh. She looked in its direction. She met Anne's eyes, bright and amused. Just then Miss Bestris came in, her eyes angry and her cheeks flushed. She strode across the room.

"Well," she said. "I'm glad to see you finally came down." She sank heavily into her chair. "Cresent's back. They just brought her in. The idiots came right in here with her. I'll bet I lost half-a-dozen customers. These Earthmen are sensitive about such things."