"Name it the very desirable. Thani is very desirable, and yet she does not raise hob with Tet'h. And Thani is not only beautiful, but she is wealthy, too." "And Tet'h is not without his own desirability," smiled Tonla. "Nor his wealth. Beauty walks in the arms of grace. She has neither." "Let's get out. And let us hope that all Terrans are not as nasty as this one." "I fear, though. If I were a Terran, I'd never have come to get her," said Tonla. "Unless she and they are well met." "Perhaps they are afraid of the bad impression she'll make if they leave her here." "You hope for that?" "No race could be that bad." Sandra mustered enough coherency to ask another question. "How can I get to my friends?" Much negation. "Can't anyone understand me?" More gestures of complete misunderstanding. "Get out!" yelled Sandra, and then as they started to leave, Sandra exploded again. The slamming of the door coincided with the first eruption, but the molten lava and hot ashes fell on an empty room. "If she'd bothered to learn one word of Telfan, they'd have taken her," said Delya. "But they couldn't weigh down that little flier with one more--especially one who could be of no use to them. They'll return for her later." "Too bad we can't put postage on her and mail her back to this Terra of hers." "She'd come back stamped: 'Mail not wanted!'" Sandra swore a few blood-curdlers and won her point by making an impression on the marble statue with the hard, sharp corner of a heavy metal box that stood on the table beside her bed. Then she ripped out of her pajamas and dressed quickly. She ran from her room and confronted the first man she met. "Where are they?" she snapped. He shook his head and pointed down the hall. Drake followed the pointing finger to a large room. She stamped in, obviously interrupting some sort of governmental meeting. "I want to go to my friends," she said imperiously. The man at the head of the table shook his head sadly. "I must go to them! Or," she asked superciliously, "are they coming here?" More shaking of the patriarchal head. "Can't you understand, either?" she stormed. A shrug of the shoulder and a shake of the head gave Sandra to understand that she was speaking in an alien language to them. "Crano!" she snapped. She didn't know its meaning, but it was the only Telfan word she knew, and she did know that it was a term signifying that the receiver of the epithet was slightly less than educated. The elderly man went white. Two of the younger men arose, came forward, took Sandra Drake by the arms--one to each--and removed her from the chamber. They were not gentle, and on any inhabited planet employing the use of the Terran vernacular, she had been "Bounced!" And Sandra knew it.