"Not even just for the time you're on Earth? It isn't much to ask." She turned the light on herself. "Am I unattractive?"
She was not outstandingly beautiful, but since she was dressed as scantily as law allowed and fashion decreed Marcus could see her desirability. "How old are you?" he asked.
"Old enough," she said. "In eleven months, I'll be twenty-one."
"You're pretty," said Marcus. "If I were fifteen or twenty years younger—and not married—I'd come courting."
"But you did," she said in amazement. "Why did you come down a dark street, if you weren't looking for romance?"
This, it seemed, is what passed for romance on Earth. Men must be outnumbered at least three to one. It tied in with what he had so far observed. "I'm sorry for your trouble," he said.
"But you must remember that we're Outers. We're not familiar with your customs. We were merely taking a short cut to our hotel."
She gestured in sullen defeat. "I suppose it was a mistake. But why can't I have him, then? He's not married."
"He isn't, nor will he be for some time. He has barely turned seventeen. I won't give my permission."