“I’ll see you later, then,” she said. “I am hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. She left the room and walked down the hall to the elevators.

When one arrived, it announced itself with a hiss, not a bell. She wondered if she would ever hear a bell again when a door opened. Sometimes small things made all the difference between feeling at home and being forcibly reminded you were on an alien world. She got into the elevator. It was smoother than any Earthly model she’d ever known.

She braced herself for more alienness in the refectory. The food there, or most of it, wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what she was used to, either. She supposed a Japanese traveling through South Dakota had the same problem. If so, she sympathized.

Some of the booths had been adapted to accommodate humans. The adaptations were clumsy but functional. A Lizard came up to her with a menu. “Here are today’s offerings, superior Tosevite,” the server said.

“I thank you.” Karen read through it. “Ah, you have the azwaca cutlets again. Bring me those, please.”

“It shall be done, superior Tosevite. And to drink?”

“The ippa-fruit juice. Chilled, if you have it.” Ippa-fruit juice had a citrusy tartness to it.

“We do.” The server made the affirmative gesture. “We would not for ourselves, but we have seen how fond of cold things you Tosevites are. Please wait. I will take your order to the cooks. It will not be long.”

“Good,” Karen said. For the moment, she had the refectory to herself. That suited her. She wasn’t in the mood to face anyone else just then anyhow. She wished the refectory were cooler. She wished all of Home were cooler.

Of course, what she wished had nothing to do with how things really worked. She knew that, even if she didn’t like it very much. The Race had cooled the refectory even this far only to accommodate her kind. The Lizards liked things hot. The heat of a medium summer’s day in Los Angeles wasn’t heat to them at all. It was chill.

The server brought the ippa-fruit juice. It wasn’t as cold as lemonade would have been back on Earth, but it was chilled. The tangy sweetness pleased her. Had the Race brought ippa fruit to Earth? If so, a trade might easily spring up. Plenty of people would like it. I’ll have to ask Tom, she thought. If anyone here would know, he was the man.

When she finished the juice, the server refilled her glass from a pitcher. In a lot of ways, restaurants on Earth and Home were similar. “Your meal will come very shortly,” he assured her two or three times, sounding much like a human waiter anxious to preserve his tip. The Americans didn’t need to worry about tipping, though, not while they ate in the hotel refectory. Karen didn’t even know if Lizards were in the habit of tipping. If they were, the government took care of it here.

The server had just brought her the cutlets-and some roasted tubers on the side-when Kassquit walked into the refectory. Karen nodded, not in a friendly way (that was beyond her), but at least politely. She wanted to see how Kassquit would behave and what, if anything, she had to say for herself.

Kassquit nodded back with that same wary politeness. “I greet you,” the half-alien woman said.

“And I greet you,” Karen answered. “I hope you are well and happy?”

“I am well, yes. I thank you for asking.” Kassquit considered the rest of the question. “Happy? Who can say for certain? There certainly were times in the past when I was more unhappy.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Ah?” Karen said: the most noncommittal noise she could make, but one that invited Kassquit to keep talking if she wanted to.

She must have, for she went on, “I suppose even ordinary wild Tosevites are often unhappy when they are young, for they do not yet know how they will fit into their society.” She paused. Karen made the affirmative gesture; that was true enough. Kassquit continued, “It was, I think, worse for me, for I knew I did not fit in at all, not in biology, not in appearance, not in speaking-not in anything, really-and I was often reminded of this. No, I was not happy.”

Karen felt ashamed of disliking Kassquit. No other human being in the history of the world had gone through what Kassquit had. And a good thing, too, Karen thought. “And now?” she asked.

“Now I have a place of my own. I have some acceptance-even the Emperor does not find me altogether unworthy. And I am not completely cut off from my biological heritage, as I was for so long.”

Again, what did she mean? That she and Frank Coffey were fooling around, as Jonathan had said? Karen couldn’t think of anything else that seemed likely. She surprised herself when she nodded again and said, “Good.”