"Thank you," Bishop said, and knew immediately that the two words were inadequate and that his voice was slurred and halting compared with the native's voice. And, looking at the Kimonian, he had the feeling that by comparison, he cut a rumpled, seedy figure.
He reached into his pocket for his papers and his fingers were all thumbs, so that he fumbled for them and finally dug them out - dug is the word exactly - and handed them to the waiting being.
The Kimonian flicked them - that was it, flicked them - then he said "Mr. Selden Bishop. Very glad to know you. Your IQ rating, 160, is very satisfactory. Your examination showing, if I may say so, is extraordinary. Recommendations good. Clearance from Earth in order. And I see you made good time. Very glad to have you."
"But - " said Bishop. Then he clamped his mouth shut tight. He couldn't tell this being he'd merely flicked the pages and could not possibly have read them. For, obviously, he had.
"You had a pleasant flight, Mr. Bishop?"
"A most pleasant one," said Bishop and was filled with sudden pride that he could answer so easily and urbanely.
"Your luggage," said the native, "is in splendid taste."
"Why, thank you - " then was filled with rage. What right had this person to patronize his luggage!
But the native did not appear to notice.
"You wish to go to the hotel?"