"Here--I'll show you." He pressed a tiny button, spraying some of the transparent plastic across the palm of his left hand. "'Tis as magical as Master Ortine's devices," cried the girl. "Perhaps," replied Justin. "Now stand very still, honey--I'm going to give you a coat of this stuff. Then you'll have nothing to fear from Ortine's flame illusions." "Ye'r a very wonderful man, Charles," she told him proudly. "We'll soon know," he replied, then got busy and sprayed her with it all over, not sparing even her hair and lashes. Finished, he returned the spider to his pocket, said, "Now let him do his worst. Are ye--are you _sure_ you want to come back with me, honey? There's going to be one hell of a row over you." "I'll be with _ye_," she said simply. Ortine returned. He bowed to his guests, said, "Well, I hope this is our last session." "We've reached an agreement," Justin told him. "An intelligent agreement?" "Quite. We're going back together--to my time." Ortine's smile was not pleasant. He said, "This may sound a trifle trite but don't say I didn't warn you." Then, to Deborah, "For your information this may be quite painful while it lasts--or while _you_ last." "Don't be afraid, honey," Justin told her. "I'm not." The countenance she lifted to his was radiantly assured. "Not any more." Ortine hesitated, his hand half outstretched, and said, "I truly hate to disillusion you, Justin." "We'll see how your tricks prevail against love," said Justin. "_Love!_" The word seemed to infuriate Ortine. He gestured at them and the room became a cubicle of fire. For a fraction of a second Justin flinched involuntarily and during that time he could actually feel the heat. Then, once more in control of himself, he stood quietly amid flames that neither seared nor burned. Deborah locked up at him and smiled, the blaze flickering against her face. Her hand found his, pressed it tightly, and she smiled. The flames vanished. A weary Ortine shook his head in bafflement. He said, "All right, you two--you win. I'll do anything you wish. Anything to get you out of here." XI When Justin came to he felt as if he had been wrapped in several layers of flour sacking. Then, with returning consciousness, he discovered himself to be lying in his own bed in the house on Louisburg Square, wearing the coarse heavy clothes Deborah had given him. Deborah! A quick glance to his left revealed her lying beside him. He put out a reassuring hand to stroke her face, felt its plastic coating, got out of bed in a hurry. "Come on," he said, "let's get that stuff off of you." She moved like a girl in a trance. Her eyes ranged from the bed itself to the electric light on the bedside table, to the telephone, to the carpet, to the walls--then at last to Justin. "Don't let it throw you, honey," he told her. "Think how I felt when I woke up in _your_ bed."