I groaned.
"Six gates shalt thou labour, and do all that thou hast to do, but the seventh—"
"Out you get, boy-scout."
I laid a hand on my companion's shoulder. "Are you an enchantress?" I said. "At least, of course you are. But I mean, is this the way to your castle, Circe? And am I going to be turned into a herd of swine presently? They always have seven gates and a dense forest through which I cut a path with my sword, which, by the way, I have left in the tool-shed, unless perchance, maiden, thou hast filched it from my side this last half-hour. Note the blank verse again. I may say I am looking at you narrowly."
"Fret not for thy sword, Sir Scout." she replied, "neither flatter thyself that Circe wastes her spells on all who come her way. Those only will she lure who—"
"I simply love your voice," I said.
"Get down and open the gate."
I did so, and climbed slowly back.
"It's all right," she said, "We haven't got much further to go."
"I'm sorry for that."