"You are off-world persons, I see."

"That is true."

"So then: what might be your walk of life? It is important that your clothes reflect your social perspectives. That is a truism of the clothing industry."

Glawen spoke haughtily: "Is it not obvious? I am a Clattuc;

my friend is a Wook. That should answer your question a dozen times over."

"I suppose it must," said the clerk.

"You seem quite definite. Well, then: to the selection. As gentlemen, you will wish to dress as gentlemen, without compromise or false economies. Let me see. For an absolutely minimum wardrobe, you will need a pair of morning suits or, better, three:

casual, business and ceremonial; Next, a suitable costume for a formal luncheon. Sportswear for afternoon recreation, which may be used for riding in a vehicle, although full and legitimate driving regalia is preferred. For afternoon social events in the company of charming ladies: what we call our pale gray bird-basher. Late afternoon social, of two levels, and dinner gear: formal and informal. All with proper accessories, and a range of hats, at least two dozen."

Glawen held up his hand.

"All this for a week's stay?"

"A wardrobe from the Nouveau Cri will win compliments across the breadth of the Gaean Reach, certainly during the reign of this season's fashion, which is quite distinctive."

"The time for realism has arrived," said Glawen.

"Fit us each with an all-purpose suit that will get us into the Lambervoilles, and maybe a casual outfit or two. We won't need anything else."

The clerk cried out in a fluting voice of distress:

"Gentlemen, I will do as you require, but consider my personal example. I honor my body and treat it with the generosity it deserves. It is washed with rainwater and pear-oil soap, then laved with Koulmoura lotion, with tincture of calisthene for the hair. Then I don the freshest of fresh linen and an absolutely proper choice of garments.

I deal nicely with my body; it serves me well in return."

"It seems a pleasant association," said Glawen.

"Still, my body is less demanding, and Kirdy's body simply doesn't care. Give us the garments I have ordered, not too expensive, and we'll be happy, bodies and all."

The clerk gave a sniff of contempt.

"I understand your needs at last. Well, I can only do my best."

Arrayed in their new garments, Glawen and Kirdy went confidently to the Lambervoilles Hotel and discovered no difficulty either with the doorman nor yet the grand officials at the central desk, where they were assigned chambers high in the central tower overlooking the plaza. As they rode up in the elevator, Kirdy announced his intention first to bathe, then go to bed."

"What?" cried Glawen.

"It's not even noon!"

"I am tired. The rest will do us good."

"It may be good for you. Not for me."

Kirdy emitted a whimper of sheer frustration.

"So what, then, do you propose?"

"You do as you like. I am going down to the restaurant for lunch."

"And I am to be left alone in hunger?"

"If you are asleep, you will never notice."

"Of course I'll notice, asleep or awake. Bah! As always, you insist on your own way. Do my inclinations mean nothing?"

Glawen laughed a sad tired laugh.

"You know better than to ask a question like that! We were sent here to investigate, not to sleep. And you must be as hungry as I am."

Kirdy muttered: "I warn you, the food is bizarre. They will feed us worms and feathers in a sauce of minced gangaree, with ginger and musk on the side. They put ginger in everything; that's the fashion on Tassadero."

"We'll have to be on our guard."

The two descended to the restaurant. Signs and placards urged important new dishes upon them, but Glawen finally ordered from a bill of fare labeled "Traditional and Dietetic Cooking for the Elderly and the Diseased," which yielded them food more or less congenial to their tastes.

During the meal Kirdy again proposed that they return to their rooms for a period of total relaxation. Glawen again urged him to do as he liked.

"I have other plans in mind."

"No doubt connected with th^s rather pointless investigation?"

"I hardly consider it pointless."

"What do you expect to learn? The tourist agencies all sing the same song. They'll tell you ruddy chuck-all."

"We'll never be sure if we don't ask."

"I've had my fill of tourist agencies," grumbled Kirdy.

"They sell you doughnuts and charge double for the hole."

"In any event, we can interview the Zubenites who went out to Thurben Island, since we know their names."

"They will reveal nothing. Why should they?"

"Perhaps because we ask them nicely."

"Ha-ho! A forlorn hope, if ever I heard one! On this world, as on other worlds, folk exert themselves only to be vexatious." Kirdy shook his head in bitter despair.

"Why is it thus? There are never answers to my questions. Why, indeed, am I alive?"

"Here, at least, the answer is self-evident," said Glawen.