* * * * * But Scott knew the picketing had been only one manifestation of a smoldering problem. There was truth in those signs, and the people knew it. They just hadn't wanted to be reminded of it now. And, besides, most of them didn't want their thinking done for them by the left-wingers, who proclaimed the right of the people but too often in history had aborted the very rights they spoke of so feelingly. The limited democracy the people now enjoyed had been hard-won. It was not perfect, they knew, and they suspected that there was corruption here and there, either in their own government or in W.G. But the Martian people had had a bellyful of violence. The force used by the Rockheads, just lately overthrown in a peaceful election, was fresh in their minds, and they were willing to go along for a while with President Murain--at least to give him a chance. They trusted Murain. He was one of them. But Scott was aware that Murain himself was too trusting. The Martian president was a grateful man, and his gratitude had made him less suspicious than a politician should be. Where the Rockheads had driven hard bargains with Earth, Murain's representatives drove none at all. They trusted their deliverers--the men of W.G.--to do the right thing. And the Earthmen, some of them, were doing the right thing--but for themselves. Where the Martian democratic government had once lost to the fascists through force, it was now losing to friends who were rooking it, in a perfectly legitimate, businesslike way. The Commission on Exploration and Assessment had now become known off the record as A. & E.--assessment and exploitation. The business and industries which should have made the Martians prosper--which should have given them the schools and housing they had been robbed of by the Rockheads--these had their profits skimmed off and sent to Earth. The Martians had their freedom now, true, but they couldn't eat it or build with it. Ylia pulled at Scott's sleeve. They turned down a side street and, at an old stone house that seemed as ancient as Mars itself, she led him through an archway and into a court. She knocked at a door, and, when it opened, took off her ridiculous mask and entered, beckoning Scott to follow. * * * * * They entered a room that was low and wide, furnished with a mixture of Earth and Mars styles, including some of those chairs which are geared to Martian dimensions--oversized headrest and, between closely-spaced arms, a seat that a plump Terrestrial either had to squeeze into, or avoid.