"Hmmm. The Naturalists I've seen out at the lodges were all slightly peculiar, as if they thought differently from the way I did."

Glawen glanced over his shoulder toward the library table where Miloand Wayness stood turning the pages of off-world periodicals.

"They don't seem extra-peculiar, although I know what you mean."

"What do they look like?"

Again Glawen chose his words carefully.

"They are not what I would call bad-looking."

"Fascinating! Tell me more."

"They have black hair which makes a remarkable contrast with their pale olive skin. Milo has quite a good physique."

"And Wayness: has she a good physique too?"

"In a certain sense. She is slim, rather boyish, in fact.

Milo is an inch taller than I am and is quite handsome, I should say, in an aristocratic way."

"Wayness is not aristocratic, then?"

"They're much the same in that respect. Both are very much in charge of themselves."

"What are they wearing?"

"I haven't noticed. One minute while I look."

"Hurry, because Mother is calling me for my fitting."

"Wayness is wearing a short gray skirt, black stockings which show her knees, a black jacket and a gray ribbon around her hair with two tassels, dark red and dark blue, hanging to the middle of her neck. I Milo " "Never mind about Milo. I'm sure he's decently clad."

"Oh, quite. They're still looking at fashion books ... Now they're laughing, why I don't know."

"Here comes Squeaker, I mean Miranda, with urgent news from Mother. I must go."

Glawen turned away from the telephone. For a moment he studied his guests, then slowly approached the table.

"I see that I'm not indispensable after all. You're getting along nicely without me."

"Yes, with the help of these silly fashions," said Milo.

"Look at this funny creature."

"Sad to say, it's a lady and she's in deadly earnest."

"Hm. Which reminds me: I was much impressed by the coiffure of your Aunt Spanchetta."

"We're all quite proud of it. Unfortunately, after Spanchetta's hair and the fashion books, there's not much else of interest around here." Glawen went to the sideboard, and poured wine into goblets.

"This is our own Green Zoquel, which we Clattucs claim to be the wine which gave Parilia its start."

The three went to sit on the sofa. Aside from themselves the library was empty. Glawen said: "It's quiet downstairs tonight. Everyone is busy with their costumes. What of yourselves? We'll have to find costumes for you."

Wayness asked: "Does everyone go about in costume?"

"Almost everyone, from tomorrow until SmoHen night. We can always find something in the Mummery wardrobe. We'll go to look first thing in the morning."

"Costumes encourage conduct which otherwise might be repressed," said Milo.

"Don't ask me how I know; the idea just came to me."

Wayness said: "I've always assumed that people picked out costumes representing parts they wanted to play."

"In many cases, that's the same thing," said Glawen.

"There are always more demons and half-naked maenads strolling around the Quadrangle than nice little birds or baskets of fruit."

Wayness asked mischievously: "What is your costume to be? A nice bird?"

"No," said Glawen.

"I shall be a black demon, sometimes invisible-which is to say, when the lights go out."

"I'll be just a thing in a sack," said Milo.

"In that way I escape, or at least confuse, all attempts at psychoanalysis."

"You'd be more comfortable as a Pierrot," said Wayness.

"Also less conspicuous." She told Glawen: "Milo feels that ostentation indicates an insipid personality."

"I'll have to give the matter some thought," said Milo.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I will be off to bed."

"And I as well," said Wayness.

"Goodnight, Glawen."

"Goodnight."

Glawen went to his own chambers. Scharde looked him over and said: "You seem none the worse for your ordeal."

Glawen spoke with nonchalance: "It wasn't as bad as I expected especially when I thought of Aries marching on patrol around the compound fence."

"That compensates for a great deal," said Scharde.