George said, "It stinks. It so happens I want to see Narka again."
"After you see her, you'll be sorry. I'm not saying you can't handle women, George. Don't misunderstand me. Myra is a spitfire a lot like the Queen, but you certainly can handle Myra. I don't mean that."
George was pleased. "Of course. What do you mean?"
"Well, Narka is—"
He stopped talking. Something fell to the floor at George's feet, and he stopped to pick it up. He held it in his palm—a necklace of flawless pearls, worth a small fortune. He held it in his hand, not knowing what to do with it.
"That's what I mean," Arl said.
"Oh, it's beautiful," Myra cooed. "Is it for me, George? Where did you get it?" Then she pouted. "It's not for—that Narka, is it? It's for me, isn't it, George?"
"That's what I mean," Arl said again. "Narka cannot resist the impulse to steal everything she likes in this dimension. She simply takes what she likes, and I know several cases in which one of your three dimensional men went to jail for a series of robberies committed by the Queen."
"That's ridiculous," George said. "How can she steal so many things?"