"Just sprained."
"I'll get some hot water with some MedAid in it, and that'll take the swelling out."
When he had his foot in the water, she sat across from him and arranged her dressing gown with a coquettish gesture. She caught him staring at the earring, and one hand went to it caressingly. She smiled that universal feminine smile of security and recklessness, of invitation and rejection.
"You're engaged," he noted.
She opened her eyes wide and studied him above a thumbnail which she tasted with her teeth. "I'm engaged to Von Stutsman—" as the name might be translated—"perhaps you've heard of him? He's important in the Party. You know him?"
"No."
"You in the Party?" she said. She was teasing him now. Then, suddenly: "Neither am I, but I guess I'll have to join if I become Mrs. Von Stutsman."
They were silent for a moment.
Then she spoke, and he was frozen in terror, all thoughts but of self-preservation washed from his mind.
"Your accent is unbelieveably bad," she said.