"That Toroh and his Noths were in the cavern at Orleen" the Banker said gruffly. "Can't you keep the thing straight? I want to hear it consecutively--not jumped around in this way." Ensconced in the window seat, George and Dee gazed out at the yellow lights of the city around them--a city so different from anything Dee could have even imagined. There was a soft, rose-shaded light beside the girl. George was not looking out of the window, but at her. He had seen Dee in many costumes, but never, he thought, was she so beautiful as right now. A girl of his own time world. He had not realized that this was the way he had always wanted her to look. Her dress, dropping to a few inches above her ankles, was soft and clinging. Her black hair, like Azeela's, was dressed high on her head. Like Azeela, too, she wore the dark mourning flower. The soft light beside her cast a flush on her milk-white throat and cheeks. Feeling his gaze, she turned. "You like the way Lylda has clothed me? It feels very strange." "Yes," he said. "You look beautiful, Dee." She turned back to the window in confusion. From below, the hum of the city floated up to them; the raucous sirens of automobiles. "Yes," he repeated. "I do like it very much, Dee." Abruptly his arms were around her; he was kissing her. "George! Some one will see us!" "No," he protested. "No, they won't. Anyway suppose they do? I don't care--do you?"