"You think he might be disappointed when he sees me? Is that it, Ben? I know I'm no pinup girl. But I'm a worker and a breeder. He'll see it. In the end, that's what's going to count."
Ben was still making holes in the sand with his feet, trying to say something.
"Please don't worry," Annie went on, "your friend won't be sorry. If he doesn't want to marry me right away—okay. I can understand it. But I can give him a chance to watch me work."
"That isn't it," Ben said finally. "I think you look fine, Annie. It's—it's any woman. He told them not to send a wife for him. Any woman."
"But that's ridiculous. He knows the laws. Five years and then a wife. Why did he stake out in the first place?"
"That was before," Ben answered.
"Before what?"
"Aw, it's not for me to say. Why don't you just forget Bradman. He's a good enough guy. But not for you. You come—"
"Which way and how far?"
Ben looked at her hard. "Okay. On Mars your life is your own." He pointed. "Second farmbubble you come to. And you'd better hurry. It ought to take eight hours and night falls like a ton of bricks here."