“Believe me, it’s a pleasure to see you.” He reached out a big hand, and took hers in it, then released her to shake hands with Johnny. “Having any trouble walking? Good. Those shoe plates are supposed to make just enough difference, but gravity and magnetism aren’t exactly the same. Some people have trouble at first. Come on. Got some chow waiting for you. Even the Moon has traditions. Banquet in the dining room every time a ship comes in.” They were walking across a curious concrete flooring, flecked with sparkling bits of silvery stuff, away from the dome and wall, the great air-lock “gate” through which they had entered, leaving the two tall ships and the Moon-vista behind them as they approached the center of the base. The shiny bits in the floor must be the magnetizing element, she decided, and became pleasantly aware of the difference Chris had mentioned. She felt light, buoyant, fluidly effortless in all her movements--but still her feet behaved as they were accustomed to behaving under normal gravity. “I guess the people who feel uncomfortable walking must be the ones with feet out of proportion to their bodies,” she said thoughtfully, remembering how the plates had been carefully trimmed to size and attached to her shoes at the spaceport on Earth. “I mean, if your feet were a little small, the surface wouldn’t give you quite as much attraction as you needed to make it feel the same...?” Chris nodded. “We have special plates made up with thicker soles for overweight people, if they’re staying on. Although, once you get used to the idea, it’s kind of fun not to use them at all.” He smiled. “You see what kind of solitary pleasures a man is reduced to in a setup like this? But I can’t very well go floating around the place where the hired hands can see me, so I only do it when I’m alone in the executive suite,” he added, to Johnny, and went on: “Listen, if you folks would rather skip the love-feast today, we can have something sent up to my place. Whatever you’d rather--?” “Makes no difference,” Johnny said curtly. “Whatever you want. They’ll be expecting you, won’t they?” She heard the tightness in his voice, shot a quick unnecessary look at his face, and did her duty: “Frankly, I _would_ appreciate it if it’s not too much trouble,” she lied. “I’m ... kind of dazed.” _That_ was no lie.