He looked at her a while. He felt only a deep, bitter resentment. He felt good though, physically. He had probably been given something, an injection. He sat up. Then he got to his feet.
She kept on studying him. "A change of clothes, dry detergent, and hair remover for your face are in there, through that door," she said.
He said: "Right now I'd rather talk."
"But don't you want to take off that awful—beard?"
"The devil with it! Is that so important? It's natural isn't it for a man to have hair on his face? I like hair on my face."
She opened her mouth a little and stepped back a few steps.
"And anyway, what could be less important right now than the way I look?"
"I'm—I'm Gloria Munsel," she said hesitantly. "I'm President of the City here. And what is your name, please?"
"Eddie Bowren. What are you going to do with me?"
She shrugged. "You act like a mad man. I'd almost forgotten what you men of Earth were like. I was pretty young then. Well, frankly, I don't know what we're going to do with you. No precedent for the situation. No laws concerning it. It'll be up to the Council."