"My poor feet,"
she mourned, "they are black and blue with the cobbles and my hair is
filled with sand and tangles! Toymaker, what way was this to send me to
entice a man? Any man would have come quickly, quickly, if he had seen
me looking lovely, but you--you send me in rags!"
She stamped a small bare foot. She was not merely as young as she had
looked in the street. Though immature and underdeveloped by Terran
standards, she had a fair figure for a Dry-town woman. Her rags fell now
in graceful folds. Her hair was spun black glass, and I--I saw what the
rags and the confusion in the filthy street had kept me from seeing
before.
It was the girl of the spaceport cafe, the girl who had appeared and
vanished in the eerie streets of Canarsa.
Evarin was regarding her with what, in a human, might have been rueful
impatience. He said, "You know you enjoyed yourself, as always, Miellyn.
Run along and make yourself beautiful again, little nuisance."
The girl danced out of the room, and I was just as glad to see her go.
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