Sometimes Dai Zee and Miss Pan-ya used their chi at once, conspicuously and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite acknowledged, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of any weakness. They were here—and they accepted Tomas and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away before the haunting hour. It was sharply different from the West where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the haunting hour itself.

"You make me feel uncultivated, Dai Zee," I confessed on my second glass of woody but rather impressive mead. "Can't you talk about chi types or something?"

I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way.

"Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tomas violently. "I've gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read 'The Rise of the Demon Empires' by this man Gooderd?"

"Why, no," I answered, rather surprised by his tone.

"Well, it's a fine scroll, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don't look out the human race will be—will be utterly submerged. It's all well-documented stuff; it's been proved."

"Tomas’ getting very profound," said Dai Zee with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep scrolls with long words in them. What was that word we—"

"Well, these scrolls are all beneficial," insisted Tomas, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us who are the dominant species to watch out or these other species will have control of things."

"We've got to beat them down," whispered Dai Zee, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun.

"You ought to live in Califia—" began Miss Pan-ya but Tomas interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.

"This idea is that we're Humans. I am, and you are and you are and—" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Dai Zee with a slight nod and she winked at me again. "—and we've produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, martial arts and all that. Do you see?"

There was something pathetic in his concentration as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the door chimes rang inside and the butler left the porch Dai Zee seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me.

"I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered enthusiastically. "It's about the butler. Do you want to hear about the butler?"

"That's why I came over tonight."

"Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be the mythril smith for some noble in New Citadel that had a mythril store with two hundred employees. He had to hammer it from morning till night until finally it began to affect his senses—"

"Things went from bad to worse," suggested Miss Pan-ya.

"Yes. Things went from bad to worse until finally he had to give up his position."

For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.

The butler came back and murmured something close to Tomas’ ear whereupon Tomas frowned, pushed back his chair and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her Dai Zee leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.

"I love to see you at my table, Nic. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Pan-ya for confirmation. "An absolute rose?"

This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing but a stirring warmth flowed from her as if her heart meridian was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.

Miss Pan-ya and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said "Sh!" in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond and Miss Pan-ya leaned forward, unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.

"This Mr. Gatsu-be you spoke of is my neighbor—" I said.

"Don't talk. I want to hear what happens."

"Is something happening?" I inquired innocently.

"You mean to say you don't know?" said Miss Pan-ya, honestly surprised. "I thought everybody knew."

"I don't."

"Why—" she said hesitantly, "Tomas' got some woman in New Citadel."

"Got some woman?" I repeated blankly.

Miss Pan-ya nodded.

"She might have the decency not to message him at dinner-time. Don't you think?"

Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots and Tomas and Dai Zee were back at the table.

"It couldn't be helped!" cried Dai Zee with tense gayety.

She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Pan-ya and then at me and continued: "I looked outdoors for a minute and it's very prophetic outdoors. There's a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the courage or power ley line. He's singing away—" her voice sang "—It's prophetic, isn't it, Tomas?"

"Very prophetic," he said, and then miserably to me: "If it's light enough after dinner I want to take you down to the dojo."

The door chimes rang again, startlingly, and as Dai Zee shook her head decisively at Tomas the subject of the dojo, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at every one and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn't guess what Dai Zee and Tomas were thinking but I doubt if even Miss Pan-ya who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy skepticism was able utterly to put this fifth guest's shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to call immediately for the city guard.

The dojo, needless to say, was not mentioned again. Tomas and Miss Pan-ya, with several feet of twilight between them strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf I followed Dai Zee around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.