"Men have no shame," sighed Dimanche. "Some humanoids do. The dealer was one who did. I forced him to project onto his cards something that wasn't a suit at all." "Embarrassing if that got out," agreed Cassal. "What did you project?" Dimanche told him. Cassal blushed, which was unusual for a man. The dealer-manager returned and the transaction was completed. His money was safe in the Bank of the Galaxy. "Hereafter, you're not welcome," said the dealer morosely. "Don't come back." Cassal picked up the cards without looking at them. "And no accidents after I leave," he said, extending the cards face-down. The manager took them and trembled. "He's an honorable humanoid, in his own way," whispered Dimanche. "I think you're safe." It was time to leave. "One question," Cassal called back. "What do you call this game?" Automatically the dealer started to answer. "Why, everyone knows...." He sat down, his mouth open. It was more than time to leave. Outside, he hailed an air taxi. No point in tempting the management. "Look," said Dimanche as the cab rose from the surface of the transport tide. A technician with a visual projector was at work on the sign in front of the gaming house. Huge words took shape: WARNING--NO TELEPATHS ALLOWED. There were no such things anywhere, but now there were rumors of them. * * * * * Arriving at the habitat wing of the hotel, Cassal went directly to his room. He awaited the delivery of the equipment he had ordered and checked through it thoroughly. Satisfied that everything was there, he estimated the size of the room. Too small for his purpose. He picked up the intercom and dialed Services. "Put a Life Stage Cordon around my suite," he said briskly. The face opposite his went blank. "But you're an Earthman. I thought--" "I know more about my own requirements than your Life Stage Bureau. Earthmen do have life stages. You know the penalty if you refuse that service." There were some races who went without sleep for five months and then had to make up for it. Others grew vestigial wings for brief periods and had to fly with them or die; reduced gravity would suffice for that. Still others-- But the one common feature was always a critical time in which certain conditions were necessary. Insofar as there was a universal law, from one end of the Galaxy to the other, this was it: The habitat hotel had to furnish appropriate conditions for the maintenance of any life-form that requested it. The Godolphian disappeared from the screen. When he came back, he seemed disturbed. "You spoke of a suite. I find that you're listed as occupying one room." "I am. It's too small. Convert the rooms around me into a suite." "That's very expensive." "I'm aware of that. Check the Bank of the Galaxy for my credit rating." He watched the process take place. Service would be amazingly good from now on.