"Of course you vill." She smiled. "Ah, you dashin' glamorous Earthmen, you make me feel so small and veak." She topped him by a good two inches.
They came into the doorway of the saloon and three familiar figures barred Ray's passage.
"What the hell became of you, Ballantyne?" demanded one. His geniality was quite gone. "You was going to play some more with us."
"I forgot," said Ray huskily. The three men looked bigger than they had, somehow.
"It's not sporting to quit when you're so far ahead," said another.
"Yeah," said a third. "You ought at least to give us our money back."
"I haven't got it," said Ray.
"Look, pal, things happen to people that ain't good sports. They ain't very pop-u-lar, and things happen to them. Where's that money?"
They crowded in, hemming him against the wall. Beyond them, he could see Colonel Roshevsky-Feldkamp staring coldly at the tableau. Ray wondered if he hadn't put the players up to this. They wouldn't have dared start trouble without some kind of sub rosa official hint.