"Not quite." Ortine smiled. "Not quite, my dear Justin. Why not enjoy a good dinner before we resume our little chat?"
X
There were a number of small changes in the clothing of the diners in Ortine's incredible restaurant. The eighteenth-century lady had removed her towering headdress to reveal a closely shaved round pate, the white-haired woman from medieval England had managed to don a shift—and of course Dr. Phillips had his trousers. But most of the diners appeared the same.
There was a general air of festivity about the repast. Apparently the bulk of the visitors had expected no return to the paradise of Belvoir and were resolved to enjoy its luxuries to the hilt. But Justin and Deborah said little, barely toyed with their food.
"Darling Charles," said the girl softly, "what d'ye think is going to happen now?"
"I don't know," said Justin honestly. He captured her near hand, added, "Dear Debby, will you go with me no matter what?"
She answered him with her eyes.
When they returned to their cubicle, after a brief walk in the garden, Ortine was awaiting them. He said, "Well?"
Justin studied him. Finally he said, "Ortine, we've made up our minds. We're going back—together. But this time we're going back into my era."