"Fahn's home," Loto said. "We'll go right in." They passed through a garden, colorful with its mass of vivid flowers, and heavy with the languorous scent of magnolia and orange blossoms. The house stood well back from the road. It was a low, broad building, white in color, with, a low-hanging room--not thatched, but seemingly of blue tiling. Then they were on the veranda. The walls of the house sloped inward at the top. There was a window nearby--no glass--with a blue-white, silky curtain shrouding it. The door stood open; inside was a hall, with another door open to the sunlight of a patio banked with flowers. A girl came to the doorway. It was Azeela. George recognized her at once: a slight little creature of blue eyes, golden hair and milk-white skin; a pale blue sash wound wide about her hips and thighs, breastplates of metal, with the broad, circular collar above them, and her hair parted forward over her shoulders in plaits that ended with little tassels. George decided she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen; Loto's description did not half do her justice. She stood hesitantly in the doorway then, smiling, advanced to Loto and gave him both hands in a pretty gesture of welcome. George's decision that Azeela was the prettiest girl he had ever seen was short lived, for behind Azeela now came another girl, her younger sister, Dianne. Azeela might have been eighteen or nineteen; Dianne obviously was no more than sixteen--a black-haired, dark-eyed girl, dressed like Azeela, except that her sash was a deep red. "And this is Dianne," Loto was saying. "We call her Dee." "So will I," George answered promptly. He met the girl's eyes--snapping, laughing eyes with the spirit of deviltry in them. "Loto told me about you," she said demurely. Her intonation was that of a foreigner, but she spoke the ancient English with perfect ease and fluency. "Loto said he thought I would like you a lot." "He didn't tell me about _you_," George responded. "Not till ten minutes ago. But, anyway, he was right. No, what I mean is--" The rest of George's speech was lost, for they were inside the house and Fahn was advancing to meet them. The leader of the Scientists was a man of nearly seventy; a quiet, grave, dominating figure, tall and spare, but perfectly erect. His face was smooth-shaven, his iron-gray hair long to the base of the neck. He was dressed in a paneled robe of black, with a pleated white collar and cuffs. "I am glad, indeed, to have you with us," he said cordially to Rogers. He spoke precisely, slowly and carefully, as one speaks a language newly mastered. "I feel very close to you, now that my daughter Azeela is to marry Loto. It makes me--" Rogers stared blankly. "Loto engaged? Why, Loto, you--" "There was so much else to tell you, Father." Loto was covered with confusion. "Besides, I wanted to have you meet Azeela first." Azeela was trying to escape from the room, but Dee captured her and pushed her back.