"Let's look at your ankle," she said. She knelt at his feet and began to unlace the right shoe. "My, it's swollen," she said sympathetically. He winced as she touched it and then he reddened with embarrassment. He had been walking across dusty country. He drew back the foot and bent to restrain her. Playfully she slapped his hand away. "You sit back! I'll get it. I've seen dirty feet before." She pulled off the shoe and peeled off the sock. "Oh, God, it is swollen," she said. "You think it's broken, Shamar?" "Just sprained." "I'll get some hot water with some MedAid in it, and that'll take the swelling out." When he had his foot in the water, she sat across from him and arranged her dressing gown with a coquettish gesture. She caught him staring at the earring, and one hand went to it caressingly. She smiled that universal feminine smile of security and recklessness, of invitation and rejection. "You're engaged," he noted. She opened her eyes wide and studied him above a thumbnail which she tasted with her teeth. "I'm engaged to Von Stutsman--" as the name might be translated--"perhaps you've heard of him? He's important in the Party. You know him?" "No." "You in the Party?" she said. She was teasing him now. Then, suddenly: "Neither am I, but I guess I'll have to join if I become Mrs. Von Stutsman." They were silent for a moment. Then she spoke, and he was frozen in terror, all thoughts but of self-preservation washed from his mind. "Your accent is unbelieveably bad," she said. "I'm from Zuleb," he said lamely, at last. "Meta--Gelwhops--or even Karkeqwol, that makes no difference. Nobody on Itra speaks like you do. So you must be from that planet that had the Party in a flap several years ago--Earth, isn't it?" He said nothing. "Do you know what they'll do when they catch you?" she asked. "No," he said hollowly. "They'll behead you." * * * * * She laughed, not unkindly. "If you could see yourself! How ridiculous you look, Shamar. I wonder what your real name is, by the way? Sitting with a foot in the water and looking wildly about. Here, let me fix more coffee and we can talk." She called cheerily over her shoulder, "You're safe here. No one will be by. I'm not due back until Tuesday." She brought him a steaming mug. "Drink this while I dress." She disappeared into the bedroom. He heard the shower running. He sat waiting, numb and desperate, and drank the coffee because it was there. His thoughts scampered in the cage of his skull like mice on a treadmill. When Ge-Ge came back, he had still not resolved the conflict within him. She stood barefoot upon the rug and looked down at him, hunched miserably over the pan of water, now lukewarm. "How's the foot?" "All right." "Want to take it out?" "I guess." "I'll get a towel."