"I could make a fortune as a diagnostician for your sham—your doctors," Lyf said. "It's as true as the fact that I'm a Devi from Hel. Actually, my dear Miss Twilley, I had no intention of coming here even though your gateway appeared in my library. But I was intrigued enough to scan through it. And when I saw you at the other end, frightened, diseased, and friendless, I could not help feeling pity for you. You needed my help badly." He sighed. "Empathy is a Devi's weak point. Naturally I couldn't refuse your appeal." He shrugged. "At least I have offered to help, and my conscience is clear if you refuse." He wrapped his cloak around him with a movement of his lithe body that was symbolic. The case had been stated. His part was done.
"I have nothing more to say," Lyf added. "If you do not wish me to stay I shall leave." He turned toward the T.V. set. "After I have vanished," he said over his shoulder "you may turn the set off. The gateway will disappear." He shrugged. "Next time I'll look for a sabbat or some other normal focal point before I enter a gateway. This has been thoroughly unsatisfying."
"Wait!" Miss Twilley gasped.
He paused. "Have you changed your mind?"
"Maybe."
"For a human female, that's quite a concession," he said, "but I'm a Devi. I need a more devinate—er—definite answer."
"Would you give me twenty-four hours?" Miss Twilley said.
"So you can check my diagnosis?"
She nodded.