Pembroke shaved, showered, and put on the new suit and shirt he had bought. Then he took Mary Ann, the woman he had met on the beach, out to dinner. She would look magnificent even when fully clothed, he decided, and the pale chartreuse gown she wore hardly placed her in that category. Her conversation seemed considerably more normal after the other denizens of Puerto Pacifico Pembroke had listened to that afternoon. After eating they danced for an hour, had a few more drinks, then went to Pembroke's room. He still knew nothing about her and had almost exhausted his critical capabilities, but not once had she become annoyed with him. She seemed to devour every factual point of imperfection about herself that Pembroke brought to her attention. And, fantastically enough, she actually appeared to have overcome every little imperfection he had been able to communicate to her. It was in the privacy of his room that Pembroke became aware of just how perfect, physically, Mary Ann was. Too perfect. No freckles or moles anywhere on the visible surface of her brown skin, which was more than a mere sampling. Furthermore, her face and body were meticulously symmetrical. And she seemed to be wholly ambidextrous. "With so many beautiful women in Puerto Pacifico," said Pembroke probingly, "I find it hard to understand why there are so few children." "Yes, children are decorative, aren't they," said Mary Ann. "I do wish there were more of them." "Why not have a couple of your own?" he asked. "Oh, they're only given to maternal types. I'd never get one. Anyway, I won't ever marry," she said. "I'm the paramour type." It was obvious that the liquor had been having some effect. Either that, or she had a basic flaw of loquacity that no one else had discovered. Pembroke decided he would have to cover his tracks carefully. "What type am I?" he asked. "Silly, you're real. You're not a type at all." "Mary Ann, I love you very much," Pembroke murmured, gambling everything on this one throw. "When you go to Earth I'll miss you terribly." "Oh, but you'll be dead by then," she pouted. "So I mustn't fall in love with you. I don't want to be miserable." "If I pretended I was one of you, if I left on the boat with you, they'd let me go to Earth with you. Wouldn't they?" "Oh, yes, I'm sure they would." "Mary Ann, you have two other flaws I feel I should mention." "Yes? Please tell me." "In the first place," said Pembroke, "you should be willing to fall in love with me even if it will eventually make you unhappy. How can you be the paramour type if you refuse to fall in love foolishly? And when you have fallen in love, you should be very loyal." "I'll try," she said unsurely. "What else?" "The other thing is that, as my mistress, you must never mention me to anyone. It would place me in great danger." "I'll never tell anyone anything about you," she promised.