I gawked at her and she stared back. And the stare she gave me was hard
and at the same time curiously defiant--as though she would dare me to
go on with it. As though she figured I hadn't the guts.
For a moment, I just blinked stupidly at her, as I had blinked stupidly
at the little boy when he told me his mother had taught him how to
whistle. And then--after what seemed to me a very long while--I slowly
tumbled to what she meant.
Her eyes were telling me that the little Martian boy wasn't a little
Martian boy at all, that he was cross-breed, a little chap who had a
Martian father and a human, Earthwoman mother.
It was a startling thought, for there just aren't any such mixed
marriages. Or at least I had thought there weren't. Physically,
spiritually, mentally, or by any other standard you can think of,
compared to a human male the Martian isn't anything you'd want around
the house.