Marsden said, "How many of them came?"
"About twenty, half of them women, Harry. You should see the women, Harry. They wear real frilly things, like you never even saw on Talbor. They're beautiful, friend. You know it. I mean beautiful all over. Hair fixed like it would take weeks to unravel. Belly's so thin you could get your fingers around them. Straight, slim legs, not a muscle on them. Such white skin you'd swear it was made out of milk. And the way they walked, Harry—so delicate they could have run across a field of fresh eggs without breaking a shell."
"I think I'll spend the night in town," said Marsden, forgetting all about Marie.
"Oh, didn't Marie come to town with you?"
Marsden shook his head without talking.
"Janie didn't come neither. Say now, that's all right, Harry. That sure is all right. Leave the wife at home on a night like this. You know what? I think I'll take a room right there in the hotel and maybe even get to eat breakfast with the women of Earth. What do you say, Harry?"
"Suits me." Marsden's mind formed a brief image of Marie trying awkwardly to fit into the dress—to please me, he suddenly realized—and then the image faded. With Charlie Adcock he pushed through the crowd on the hotel steps.
Marsden felt breakfast, heavy mouthful by mouthful, forming an uncomfortable lump inside his chest. It was a long table big enough for thirty people, with the men and women of Earth chatting comfortably on all sides of it, their gay clothing making the dining room appear intolerably drab. Marsden had been on the verge of forgetting breakfast entirely, for when he reached the dining room he found all the seats at the table were taken except one between two delicate, wasp-waisted women of Earth. But Charlie Adcock, who was already seated, had waved him on toward the table with a broad grin, and it was either sit down or forever be a coward in Charlie's eyes.
"Hello," one of the women said while Marsden fidgeted and scooped forkfuls of bacon and eggs into his dry mouth.