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."