"It's interesting in its way," Fred said. "It just occurred to me: Mr. Steariot can spend Earth money here, but we can't spend Venus money."
"That's true," Mr. Mason said. "On the other hand, Mr. Steariot has never once, to my knowledge, been the one to bring up the subject. I think it's quite painful to him, really. But the same thing inevitably occurs to everybody he meets. You know, let's see the color of your money. I guess people are pretty much the same everywhere—that is, everywhere on Earth. They judge everything in terms of money, including whether you've even been born on Earth! 'Let's see your money,' they say to Mr. Steariot, and out he comes with one of those damn five-djino bills, and we're off."
"You know," Alice Daniels said thoughtfully, "in a way it's a lesson. Isn't it, Fred? I mean, everybody is money conscious. Maybe too much so. I'm not sorry it cost us twenty dollars to meet Mr. Steariot."
"You may be right," Fred said to her. "You may be right. Who knows, some day this five-djino bill may be a very valuable—"
"There you go again," Alice cut in. "Always putting it in terms of money."
"But you're the one," Fred said, "who thought to ask him about it in the first place."
"Don't quarrel," Mr. Mason, the hotel manager, said to them. "After all, for you it's just a vacation. For me, I've got this man sitting in my lounge day in and day out doing crossword puzzles and trading short snorters with my guests. Nobody really believes he's from Venus—nobody important, anyway. It's a little frightening, when you're trying to run a happy hotel. Sometimes I wish he'd go back to wherever he came from."
"Well," Fred said, "he's bound to leave one of these days."
"Maybe," Mr. Mason said doubtfully. "Offhand, though, I'd say the way he's taking it in, he can't afford to."