"Mary must be expecting that Earthman," Anne said. She held her glastic blouse tight together over her breasts and leaned a little out of the window. Milly nodded. "The Azmuth landed this morning." The noises of commerce were fading. From the window Anne saw the neon blaze up over the door. For the thousandth time she blinked between the equivocal words: 30—BEAUTIFUL HOSTESSES—30. Laughter, dry and false, filtered up from the tea bars along the street. She looked westward, toward the spaceport,