That wasn't Gloria Shayne I was holding! It was a withered crone, a snaggle-toothed hag! And those bony projections I'd been feeling under my hand were the vertebrae of her bent spine.
I knew the reason for this at once, of course. I directed a glare at Connie, still sitting demurely at our table with that unseemly fog hanging low over her head.
Gloria had fainted after that one piercing scream, so I picked her up in my arms, and made my way across the dance floor to Connie.
"You know what that was?" I asked.
"What?"
"The last straw," I said. "Don't you think you've done enough damage already?"
One thing about Connie, she isn't vindictive once she has made her point. She could very well have left Gloria just as she was, as a lesser, more spiteful, woman would have done. But instead she said, "I wish Gloria to be returned to her natural state at once!"
And, of course, the djinn obliged. Gloria opened her eyes almost immediately, and seemed considerably bemused to find herself attractive once more.
"Good heavens!" she said. "I must have been dreaming. Though how I could have possibly been dreaming while I was dancing—"
"Pete has that effect on all women," Connie murmured.
Now Gloria may be a fool, but she isn't a damned fool, as my Grandpa used to say. "You ask me," she said now, "there's something mighty fishy going on around here." She stood up to go.
"In the future, my dear," Connie said, bidding her good-bye, "it might be very much wiser to leave other women's husbands alone."
Gloria paled. "You did have a hand in—in whatever it was that happened to me!" She looked at me then, her brown eyes soft with pity. "I don't know what it is you've married, Pete, but you sure picked a dilly!"
"It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Connie agreed smoothly.
VI
Well, I'd had all that any mortal man could be reasonably expected to stand.
"We'll go back to the cottage, Connie, right now," I said grimly. "There's a thing or two I want to talk about with you." She could have the djinn, or she could have me. I meant to show her she couldn't have both.
Connie's eyes widened at this new note of determination in my voice. Troubled, she looked up at the djinn. He was watching me expectantly, almost encouragingly, I thought.
Connie said, "Very well."
We picked our way carefully back in the dark along the splintered, sand-strewn boards of the deserted beach walk. To our left the sea washed quietly against the shore, and the great golden moon that Connie had wished for still hung low in the sky.
It was a beautiful world, I thought sadly, but a troubled one. And here Connie and I had been frivoling the hours away with nonsense. I was ashamed. Perhaps Connie felt something of this, too, for she was very quiet.
As for the djinn, he just trailed smokily behind us, like the wake from a funnel.
Back in the cottage once more, I asked Connie to sit in a chair. From its depth she regarded me silently while I paced the strip of carpet before her, marshalling my arguments. The djinn hovered above her, quiet too.
"Connie," I said at last, "I'm going to be very, very serious. In the months since we've known each other, I've never shown this side of myself to you before. Almost it will seem to you as if I'm stepping out of character."
She waited.
"Today," I went on, "you had something happen to you that could happen not just once in a lifetime, but once in a millennium. You were given the power to have every wish of yours gratified immediately. So far, you've just amused yourself indiscreetly, but no doubt you believe that you can ask of the
