She was pretty, but not beautiful. She had soft fuzzy eyebrows but long ashes. I couldn’t see the colour of her eyes, which baffled me somewhat, for I can never feel I know a person until I know the colour of their eyes. Perhaps she had those eyes that nobody can tell the colour of, because they’re always changing. (I was right, she has.) She has rather a plump chin. She looks very sweet and gentle. She wore soft rose pink. My green and silver is much more exciting, I thought. I had worked out a gay comment on it for Zerd, who was sure to recognize it once in the light of the hall, but he has not looked at me all evening.

He is married.

I thought he was going to marry me.

I wonder if he minds all those little pink pigs nosing round his feet in the greasy floor-reeds. He doesn’t seem to notice them.

Now they are bringing in dancing-girls. Falicq swivels round to watch them. They are wearing very little and they jerk their large tummies into rather nauseating movements. Their flimsy little jackets jerk, too, at each movement and sometimes they jerk up enough to show their nipples. The smoke parts around them, it embraces them. They dance on ignoring its embraces. The lights are behind them and the smooth shadows wriggle on their bodies. There is no music but the men are clapping hands and stamping feet to the exotic, erotic, jerking rhythm. He does not look at them either. He and the rose pink girl continue to absorb each other.

What a commotion there was after we first entered here, such a time ago!

The Forest men, all of them, shook their fists and spears and insisted on tribute from us in return for their forbearance and tolerance in believing our intentions peaceful and not killing us outright. Many animals and lots of our sharp metals for each four days that we spent in the forests. It was impossible to say them nay. Only their kindred, they howled, are allowed to traverse the forests without paying. They got quite excited.

That girl has a stupid mouth, why should she catch so much of his attention?

I got up and went over to them.

His voice was the familiar artificial voice which makes me weak in the veins at the backs of my knees. “Now tell me all about yourself,” he said. His arm was stretched along the top of the settle behind her. “Oh, there isn’t much to tell …” she faltered, gazing adoringly up at him.

I walked away again among the nosing small forest pigs.

Neither of them had noticed me.

How could I ever forget the re-entry into camp late the following afternoon?