Arl was trembling. He looked ordinary compared with Narka. He wore what could have passed for a white linen suit, and it fit well. With that enigmatic smile, he could have been a good looking man, but right now he was trembling, and his mouth hung open.
"Narka—" he said.
"Don't you 'Narka' me. You know I didn't want you to come, but you came anyway. Just wait till I can get you home alone. Wait till I get you—"
"Wait is right," said George. He gestured to the jewelry about the room. "Right now there's another matter, a more important matter. What about your, ah, trophies?"
"What about them?" She gave George's arm a little squeeze, and George liked the feeling. But he saw Myra wince. "What about them? Why, nothing. I'll just take them home with me, that's all. I have a whole section of the palace filled with them."
"No you won't," George said.
"Don't be silly. Who's going to stop me?"
"I am."
She leaned more heavily on George's arm, and she looked up at him with her big round eyes. "No you're not."
"No? How are you going to get back unless I help you?"