Sprague de Camp's New Anthology

He made the last statement with that emphasis that made Alice think that he rather than Stanko ought to be called a Wolfian.

Stanko crutched his way out of the curb where the same taxi had stood all through the game. The bill, thought Alice, must be fantastic, but then the government was probably paying it too. As Stanko stood back for Alice to get in, he said:

"I trust that I am not too precipitate in asking you for another date, Miss Wernecke, but I request that you accompany me to dinner at the Bellevue-Stratford this evening. Is that agreeable to you?"

Now to dine and dance at the Bellevue-Stratford had been an ambition of Alice ever since she settled in the Philadelphia neighbourhood. Unfortunately neither John nor Edward nor any of the occasional could afford it, and while Mr. Lorbeer would have taken her she did not wish to date him under any circumstances. On the other hand she would have preferred never going near the hotel to going with Stanko. But in view of what Byron Matthews had said, she did not quite dare turn him down flat ...

"I can't tell you right now," she temporised. "I have a half-way date this evening already."

"Oh?"

"Y-yes! Let me go home and check up—I'd have to get dressed anyway—and then call me."

As soon as she got into her apartment she bolted for the telephone, causing Inez to say: "Here, what goes on?"

Ignoring her room-mate, Alice dialled the Swarthmore Inn and got Byron Matthews. She wailed:

"Byron, that mud-turtle of yours wants to take me out again tonight!"

"Hell!" roared Matthews. "I worked most of last night to get that report done so I could ask you out tonight myself—though I thought you'd probably be dated up in advance anyway."

"Then couldn't we just pretend—"

"No! Honey, you've got no idea how important this is. If Stinky wants anything short of physical indignities, go along with him as far as you decently can."

"Oh. Is that really true? About the importance, I mean. Or are you trying to get out of—"

"True!" came the blast of sound out of the receiver. "You're damned right it's true. Listen. These Wolfians act friendly and honest enough, and maybe they're all right. But nobody has yet been to their damned planet to check up, see? And they're at least as smart as we are. So it's absolutely vital to keep on the good side of them until we can find out what they are up to."

"You mean I'm a sort of key figure in interplanetary relations?"

"For the time being, yes. So put on a long dress and toddle off with Stinko. If he wants to be a big turtle-about-town, you help him be one."

"But.am I safe? If you don't really know much about these creatures—"

"You'll be as safe as the Department can make you. You didn't notice you were followed by a couple of F.B.I. men all afternoon, did you?"

"N-no."

"All right then. If the Cultural Representative acts up, just yell."

She hung up with a sigh. Byron was evidently one of those exasperating males, incomprehensible to any normal woman, who would sacrifice even their women to some abstract ideal. Like that nonsense about "I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honour more."

Alice took a bath and made up. Inez, caught her admiring her assets in the mirror and remarked sourly: "Yeah, you make a good appearance, especially without your clothes. But it's all wasted on your friend from the Galapagos."

Alice made a face at her room-mate, repaired the damages thus done to her makeup, and slid into her second-best evening dress. (She was saving the best one for a hoped-for formal date with Byron Matthews). At the appointed time Stanko showed up in the same taxi.

At the Bellevue, Alice moodily drank her cocktail and fiddled with her dinner. Being stared at was bad enough, but in addition she found Stanko, even with allowance for the difference of race, to be egregiously dull company. Despite his near-perfect English the extra-terrestrial seemed to have no sense of humour, no sparkle whatever; no visible motivation save an insatiable appetite for facts and statistics about the earth. When she tried to get him to talk about his home planet he answered her questions with curt one-word answers and returned to the attack. His slow monotone was maddening in its deliberation.

The only time she brightened was when he said: "I trust, Miss Wernecke, that you will not be affronted if I do not ask you to dance. I am not familiar with the sport, and it is moreover one to which my form is not well suited."

"That's all right," she said heartily.

At ten Stanko looked at his wrist-watch and said: "I understand that at this time the more conservative citizens among you are accustomed to return home to sleep. Is that correct?"

"Yes. Wait, Mr. Stanko, you have to pay your bill."

"So I do. Oh, gar con! I mean waiter! By the way, Miss Wernecke, I have heard of your custom of tipping. How much do you think I should give?"

Alice made a rough guess and walked out with Stanko. In the taxi home the inquisition continued:

"Now, please explain the social significance of this custom of chewing the gum of the' sapodilla tree. Though I have seen many performing the act, I note that neither you nor Mr. Matthews does it. Is it regulated by law, or what?"