The interview left Barry in a very unsettled frame of mind. He simply could not foresee the future otherwise than through a storm cloud. As he came down into the lobby, Zalithea was just crossing. She was going out to dinner and a theatre with a party that included Monty Edwards, a moneyed undesirable whom Barry detested. She disliked parties but loved theatres, they had discovered. She was dressed already, and made a sweet picture against a background depicting the wars of Rameses II. Barry’s heart jumped ridiculously; for she was so close to him that by extending a hand he could have touched her. He suppressed an impulse--which seemed quite natural--to take her in his arms and hold her and kiss her. “Zalithea,” he said, “you are adorable.” She paused, looking sideways at Barry. Her smile maddened him. “You like?” she asked naïvely. “Yes.” “Bahree-geeve me-er-kiss,” she invited. He felt a hot flush rising to his forehead. Truly his sins had found him out! At some time he had murmured those words, and Zalithea, who seemed so slow to learn many things, had seized upon them mysteriously. Perhaps the syllables chanced to resemble those of her own language. “I shall have to, one day!” he said. “I shan’t be able to help myself!” The maddest impulses surged up in his brain. Her eyes were beckoning to him. But she was helpless--their guest--to be guarded and protected. He laughed--quite mirthlessly--turned, and walked across to the library. He never glanced back. Jim Sakers was calling for him later. They were dining at a club and doing nothing in particular; what Jim termed “a night of well-earned rest.” Barry was looking forward to the evening with great interest, because he had determined, guardedly, to voice his difficulties to his friend and to get the opinion of this honest, worldly soul. Of Zalithea he purposely saw no more. He heard the others arrive and heard the car drive off. A few minutes later Jim arrived. At a corner table, placed before a high oak settle, they presently found themselves in one of the Bohemian clubs of which Jim was a member. And Barry began by outlining the position that Zalithea occupied in the Cumberland home. “I gather,” said Jim, “that your former flaming passion for the balcony princess has now been transferred to the Egyptian princess?” “Don’t be silly,” Barry returned irritably. “I’m serious. Can’t you understand that that was a vision of the girl I was going to meet?” “No,” Jim admitted, “I can’t. I have seen Mr. Brown’s house, and I have interviewed Mr. Brown’s housekeeper. There’s nothing visionary about either. Why should there be about Mr. Brown’s balcony?” “I don’t know; but there is. It’s utterly impossible that I should have seen Zalithea there. It’s utterly impossible that I should have seen her on Fifth Avenue.” “You saw her twin sister.” “Her twin sister, if she had had one, would have been dead long ago----”