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And people complaining about their spouses always looked and sounded so ugly. Well, connections for me, at least. Not that she had been able to muster the energy to pursue them as assiduously as Tien thought she ought. It's good you're making friends. When she looked up, she noticed a good-looking young Komarran man who had stopped by the outer gate to the restaurant's patio and was staring at her.

After a moment, he entered and approached their table. Madame Vorsoisson? No, not really. Ekaterin had met the young Komarran woman perhaps three times, at carefully choreographed Project events. She had usually been too conscious of herself as a representative of Tien, of the need to cordially meet and greet everyone, to get into any very intimate conversations. Had she intended to talk to me? Marie Trogir. She's an engineering tech in the Waste Heat Management department. Or she was Do you know her?

I mean, has she ever talked with you? And yours is? She blinked that thought away. I did not have the impression that Nikki was socially ambitious. His dryness was mitigated by a slight twinkle. He'd started every new job with a burst of enthusiasm, working hard, or at least, very long hours.

Surely no one could work harder. Then the enthusiasm dwindled, and the complaints began, of too much work, too little reward, offered too slowly. Lazy coworkers, smarmy bosses. At least, so he said. That had become her secret danger signal, when Tien began offering sly sexual slander of his superiors; it meant the job was about to end, again.

A new one would be found And his enthusiasm would flame up again, and the cycle would begin anew. But her hypersensitized ear had picked up no bad signs so far in this job, and they'd been here nearly a year already. Maybe Tien had finally found his- what had Vorkosigan called it? His passion. This was the best posting he'd ever achieved; perhaps things were finally starting to break into good fortune, for a change. If she just stuck it out long enough, it would get better, virtue would be rewarded.

His time was not unlimited. He does seem to have been rather, ah, restless. He raised his eyebrows at her, inviting Just the buzzing of insects in the surrounding undergrowth. They might have been a thousand miles from civilisation, marooned on a dried-up waterhole in the middle of some vast arid desert. We can keep the windows open an inch or so and listen. As soon as we think we hear anybody we'll yell our heads off.

Her figure was still passable, her breasts were still firm and had not sagged, just a few wrinkles on her stomach and a couple of stretch marks. She would not be ashamed to let a man see her nude. That in itself was an exciting thought. Her features were screwed up into a mask of panic and desperation, her voice shrill with rising hysteria. You've no right to keep me here against my will. I'm going to jump out, run for the road.

She screamed but her struggles stopped. And then she began to cry uncontrollably. They both laughed. At eleven o'clock she made herself a cup of tea and sat and drank it in the kitchen. It was one of those evenings when she found herself indulging in reflections, a nostalgic mood brought on by her son's courting.

She hoped that he would marry Kirsten, in a way it would be like getting married herself all over again, reliving their happiness, remembering how things had once been between herself and Bob. She knew that she could be very attractive if she took the trouble to make herself up; forty-four was no age, really.

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