The two men removed the girl. To the remaining sheriff, Miss Bestris said, "Damn you, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll ... I'll...."
"I'm sorry, Madame. But we wanted immediate identification. Would you want us to hold the wrong girl?"
"That's her, all right! Now, get out! Wait for me in my office."
When they were gone Miss Bestris turned to the silent room. In quite passable Esperanto she said, "I—am sorry. A misunderstanding. I assure you, nothing. Go on with the party, and I'll see what I can do for the poor girl."
She stood up and in her own language said, "Lively, girls! Smile! You, Rita, hurry and serve tea!"
She made her exit.
The spacemen grumbled among themselves, coughed uneasily, watched the closed door through which the Madame had gone. Listening, they could hear only a muted mumble of sing-song sounds in several voices.
With determined animation, the girls moved about, smiled, chatted.
Rita came in, wheeling the tea tray, and the girls converged on it, each trying to be the first to serve her escort. The tea was the Martian stuff, concocted of a kind of local hemp. The Earthmen found it harsh and bitter to the taste, but gentle on the soul.
Anne had filled two cups and returned to the second mate when she caught sight of Mary coming down the stairs.