The girl glanced at him once more, this time with a definite quizzical look in her brown eyes.
"Three complete tours of duty, I believe."
"Four," corrected Craig. "Four tours of three years each, minus a year's terminal leave."
"I take it you have no identification card?" the man asked.
"The one I held in the service. It's pretty comprehensive."
The other turned to the secretary. "You'll see that he is assisted in filing his application, won't you? A provisional Code II. That will enable you to enter all Import offices freely, Mr. Craig."
"Will he need a food and—clothing ration also?" asked the girl, without looking at Craig.
"Yes." The man laughed. "You'll excuse us, Mr. Craig. We realize that you couldn't be expected to be familiar with Terra's fashions. In your present outfit you would certainly be typed as a ... well, you'd be made uncomfortable."
Craig reddened in spite of himself. He had bought the suit on Ghandii.
"A hick," he supplied.