Men sat on the ground or snoozed with their sombreros over their faces. She dies that way, smiling. The rest can go on ahead. Susan bent over it apprehensively, laying the hair on the left side of her head across her forearm, then moving the arm slowly outward, extending the tress in a band of bright gold.
“Go thy course in safety,” Susan said as she drew back from him. “In any case, they’re Affiliation brats, sons of big estates off in the Green Somewhere, if Rimer and that fool he works for have it straight. She supposed she should get off the stool—there was apt to be shooting any second now, and likely a great lot of it—but sometimes you just had to take your chances. Cordelia stood there in one of her rusty black dresses.
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