"Maybe he isn't even on it." Anne turned from the window. She crossed to the couch and sat down, fluffing out the green crinkly glass of her skirt; pendant, multicolored birds flashed from the rings in her ears. She tucked rosy feet under her scented body. "I don't like Earthmen," she said.
"They spend money."
"They make me sick," Anne said. "With their pale skins and ugly eyes and hairy bodies."
"They have strong arms."
Anne's wide, red mouth curled in distaste. "They're like a bunch of kids."
The room was lighted by soft, overhead fire. Heavy drapes hung from the walls. Sweet, spicy incense curled bluely from the burners by the window.
Before the mirror, Milly edged in the narrow line of her pink eyebrows with a pencil. She folded her lips in, rubbing them together, licked them, making them a glistening red. She pinched her cheeks.
"I wonder when they'll catch Crescent?" she said.
Anne yawned languorously. "It won't be long."
"I wouldn't want to be in her shoes," Milly said.