 Why did Lawrence close his eyes and toddle around in a 360-degree rotation?
My three staff men, Auchinleck, Stebbins and Ludlow, walked shieldwise in front of me. The aliens came in every shape and form, in all colors and textures—and all of them eager for a Corrigan contract. The Galaxy is full of bizarre beings, but there's barely a species anywhere that can resist the old exhibitionist urge. J. F. Corrigan will hold interviews in person on Ghryne from Thirdday to Fifthday of Tenmonth. There was a lidless eye at the top of his head and five lidded ones, one above each arm. The being closed his eyes and toddled around in a 360-degree rotation, remaining in place. The spherical creature clapped his hands in joy, three hands clapping on one side, two on the other. But just because we needed him didn't mean we had to be extravagant in hiring him. Our outfit has all the ursinoids it needs or is likely to need in the next few decades, and so I got rid of him in a couple of minutes. I passed him along to Auchinleck to sign at anything short of top rate. It was the isolationism of the late 29th century that turned me into the successful proprietor of Corrigan's Institute, after some years as an impoverished carnival man in the Betelgeuse system. Before then, anyone could visit Earth. At the same time, we had turned away a dozen ursinoids, fifty of the reptilian natives of Ghryne, seven Sirian spiders, and no less than nineteen chlorine-breathing Procyonites wearing gas masks.
 That was a sign that he was giving an apologetic smile.
 That was a sign that he was happy.  That was a sign that he was irritated with the recruiter's decision.  That was a sign that he was giving an apologetic smile.  He was disoriented.