I was still meditating on names in an effort to forget Duare, when Kamlot joined me, and I decided to take the opportunity to ask him some questions concerning certain Amtorian customs that regulated the social intercourse between men and maids. He opened a way to the subject by asking me if I had seen Duare since she sent for me. “I saw her,” I replied, “but I do not understand her attitude, which suggested that it was almost a crime for me to look at her.” “It would be under ordinary circumstances,” he told me, “but of course, as I explained to you before, what she and we have passed through has temporarily at least minimized the importance of certain time-honored Vepajan laws and customs. “Vepajan girls attain their majority at the age of twenty; prior to that they may not form a union with a man. The custom, which has almost the force of a law, places even greater restrictions upon the daughters of a jong. They may not even see or speak to any man other than their blood relatives and a few well-chosen retainers until after they have reached their twentieth birthday. Should they transgress, it would mean disgrace for them and death for the man.” “What a fool law!” I ejaculated, but I realized at last how heinous my transgression must have appeared in the eyes of Duare. Kamlot shrugged. “It may be a fool law,” he said, “but it is still the law; and in the case of Duare its enforcement means much to Vepaja, for she is the hope of Vepaja.” I had heard that title conferred upon her before, but it was meaningless to me. “Just what do you mean by saying that she is the hope of Vepaja?” I asked. “She is Mintep’s only child. He has never had a son, though a hundred women have sought to bear him one. The life of the dynasty ends if Duare bears no son; and if she is to bear a son, then it is essential that the father of that son be one fitted to be the father of a jong.” “Have they selected the father of her children yet?” I asked. “Of course not,” replied Kamlot. “The matter will not even be broached until after Duare has passed her twentieth birthday.” “And she is not even nineteen yet,” I remarked with a sigh. “No,” agreed Kamlot, eyeing me closely, “but you act as though that fact were of importance to you.” “It is,” I admitted. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “I intend to marry Duare!” Kamlot leaped to his feet and whipped out his sword. It was the first time that I had ever seen him show marked excitement. I thought he was going to kill me on the spot. “Defend yourself!” he cried. “I cannot kill you until you draw.” “Just why do you wish to kill me at all?” I demanded. “Have you gone crazy?” The point of Kamlot’s sword dropped slowly toward the floor. “I do not wish to kill you,” he said rather sadly, all the nervous excitement gone from his manner. “You are my friend, you have saved my life—no, I would rather die myself than kill you, but the thing you have just said demands it.”