"To get a cage!" the drunk shrilled. "To keep the animals in their own stinking place."
"I've changed my mind," Retief said to the bartender. "To be grateful as hell, but to have to hurry off now." He followed the drunk out the door. The other Groaci released him, hurried back inside. Retief looked at the weaving alien.
"To begone, freak," the Groacian whispered.
"To be pals," Retief said. "To be kind to dumb animals."
"To have you hauled away to a stockyard, ill-odored foreign livestock."
"To not be angry, fragrant native," Retief said. "To permit me to chum with you."
"To flee before I take a cane to you!"
"To have a drink together—"
"To not endure such insolence!" The Groacian advanced toward Retief. Retief backed away.
"To hold hands," Retief said. "To be palsy-walsy—"