"How else can we go?"
"Can't we get an eshbrug?"
He looked at her wonderingly. "To travel three times as long? I am aware that you are tired—"
"I'm tired of a lot of things," she blurted. "I'm tired of all the smooth, cynical, streamlined—Right now, I'd rather walk the whole way than step into an Earthling airbus."
He gave an uncertain laugh. "I am not sure that I understand your meaning."
"I'll explain it some time."
But how could she ever? He thought Earthlings were all such noble, shining, gifted creatures. How could she tell him of the rot at the heart of so many of them?
"Come on," she insisted desperately. "Let's find an eshbrug."
The driver let them out at Gregrill's road. Gregrill shouldered the trunk, and they walked down past the irregular row of red, sunbaked, dome-shaped houses, each with its big tank in the rear for catching Mars' meager rainfall. Joyce felt a quickening, a surge of warmth, when she saw them and the quiet, open-faced people in their doorways, smiling their shy welcomes. She was coming home.