Despite this, when Yancey took the week's leave to visit Athens, he had no idea that he was to meet someone there—that he would not return to the station alone.
You must understand the position of the Venusian women to appreciate the thing that happened with Yancey and Selo.
From the time of the first settlement, fraternization had been frowned upon. No one expected earthmen, twenty-six million miles from home, to ignore the more attractive of the Venusian women. But very few permanent alliances were formed. Militiamen might wink at a buxom beauty, might even invite her caresses to while away a long Venusian night, but with the sunrise she must return to her appointed place in the scheme of things colonial.
Selo was a waitress in one of the cheap Venusian restaurants that dotted the boundary between the old city of Athens and the new. Her uncle, a vicious-looking old fellow with beetling brows, broken nose and protruding teeth, was the proprietor of the place, and, in his unoccupied moments, which were many, he did what he could to make life miserable for the girl.
The moment that Yancey saw her he felt a quickening of his desire. The girl was young. Not more than seventeen or eighteen earth years of age, and despite her wretched clothes she had a distinctive kind of beauty. She lived in constant fear of her uncle, doing her heavy work in the restaurant with the deft but lifeless efficiency of an automaton.
It was apparent to Yancey that it was only a matter of time until someone recognized the girl's potentials and took her away. He could find no reason why he shouldn't be her discoverer.
She was terribly frightened and shy at first. That an earthling should be kind to her seemed beyond her comprehension. Then, once she saw Yancey was serious in his advances, she was certain her uncle would find her out and punish her.
On the fourth night of his visit to Athens, Yancey persuaded Selo to meet him after the restaurant closed. When she slipped furtively out of the shadows to seek haven in his arms he knew that he could not return to the humidi-hut alone. With this woman to care for him he could search for the quollas with new eagerness. She would put an end to the terrible loneliness.
Of course, he told Selo nothing of what he was actually thinking. If he had she would have been much too terrified to understand. He promised to be kind to her and to protect her from any attempt by her uncle to punish her. He told her briefly of the humidi-hut, of the good food, the nice clothes.