And then Gregrill came, moving up the corridor with his lithe, magnificent grace.
His wet hair glistened.
"Greg, you look wonderful!" she cried, instantly aware of how foolish she sounded.
He speeded his steps. He didn't see the cleaning hose in his path. The Venusian moved quickly to pull it aside, but it caught Gregrill's foot. He stumbled, caught himself on the corridor rail. Swiftly he turned, his arm swung out, his forearm slammed against the jaw of the little Venusian, sending him crashing down against his cleaning machine. Gregrill looked down at him a moment. Then he turned, gave Joyce a broad smile and walked to her table.
"Greg." Her throat was dry. "Why did you do that? He didn't mean it."
"It is his duty to avoid such accidents," Gregrill said.
"But look, he's still lying there. Let's go help him."
"Leave him there," he said. "He is only a Venusian."
"Only a—?"
"Venusian." His lips curled. "They are the scum of the Solar System."