Much of the decency of man had been destroyed by the Kraks; there seemed no joy, no laughter, no comradeship, only an all-pervading air of despair. That light of intelligence had left many a human's eyes in that inclosure to be replaced by a blank stare. * * * * * Sean shuddered a little, and the wry twist came to his mouth. Somehow, he thought, and the coldness of the thought was like a knife of chilled steel, the Kraks must be destroyed and punished for this terrible blow to the dignity of man. The cold hand of a Krak on his shoulder roused him from his bitter thoughts. He followed the Krak, wonderingly. The guide and he moved out of the compound, across the black street, pushing through the massed humans who were being poured into the compound, into what was apparently a barracks for warrior Kraks. Through the barracks to a large office at the end they went. Ralk, the scarlet-kilted Krak, who had engineered his little fiasco with Klash was there. And another Krak, not white-skinned like those on the space ship, but a pastel pink with features less coarse. This Krak was bald, but he wore a long black robe. Ralk said shortly: "Red-headed one, you are blessed. Shel Lur has chosen you for her own. Thank your hair, Earthman, that shines like Karrar's sun." There was no expression on Shel Lur's face, but her bald head, painted a darker pink than her skin, inclined. Sean wondered if the woe-begone expression on his face was apparent to Shel Lur. This--this thing a woman of the Krak race? Sean's lips twisted--no wonder the Kraks looked so gloomy. Mother of Erin, he would prefer being in the compound than in the company of this huge creature. He said so to Ralk. Ralk's voice was impassive. "Do not be mistaken, Earthman. Shel Lur does not want you for a husband; but as something to look at." He spoke quickly in his native tongue to Shel Lur. The female Krak nodded, moved toward him. As Shel Lur's big cold hand seized his arm and steered him out of the door of the office, Sean was, for the first time in twenty-five years of life, not smiling at the events facing him. * * * * * It wasn't so bad, Sean reflected some weeks later, but it wasn't anything to laugh about--this being doll to a lady of the Kraks. He was fed well, and he slept well, even if it were on the cold black floor. But he couldn't stand that impassive stare when Shel Lur gazed at him three times a day--once in the morning when she prodded him awake with her foot, once in the afternoon when she brought him down to the dinner table to stare and once in the evening just before she undressed for the night and lay down on her air pallet. He had stood it for a week, then he tried to teach her the English language only to find out that she knew enough of it as she wanted. He'd talked to her, trying to describe Earth to her--telling her how different women there were. And she had just nodded and said, "_Yess?_"