“Uh, thou art God. Thanks.” He was beyond being surprised when she leaned down and kissed him, then got plates for herself and Jill, sat down on the other side of him and began to eat. He was willing to concede that, if not God, Dawn had the best attributes associated with goddesses; he was rather sorry she had not sat down across from him—he couldn’t see her well without being obvious about it.

“No,” Dawn agreed, between bites, “we aren’t really trained yet, Jill. But waiting will fill.”

“That’s the size of it, Ben,” Jill continued. “For example, I took a break to eat. But Mike hasn’t had a bite for well over twenty-four hours . . . and won’t eat until he’s not needed—you happened to hit a crowded day, because of that group making transition to Eighth Circle. Then when Mike is through, he’ll eat like a pig and that will carry him as long as necessary. Besides that, Dawn and I get tired . . . don’t we, sweet?”

“We surely do. But I’m not too tired, Gillian. Let me take this service and you can visit with Ben. Give me that robe.”

“You’re crazy in your little pointy head, my love—and Mama spank. Ben, she’s been on duty almost as long as Mike has. We both can take that long a stretch—but we eat when we’re hungry and sometimes we need sleep. Speaking of robes, Dawn, this was the last vanishing robe in the Seventh Temple. I meant to tell Patty she’d better order a gross or two.”

“She has.”

“I should have known. This one seems a little tight.” Jill wiggled in it in a fashion that disturbed Ben more than Dawn’s perfect and unrobed skin. “Are we putting on weight, Dawn?”

“I think we are, a little. No matter.”

“Helps, you mean. We were too skinny. Ben, you noticed, didn’t you, that Dawn and I have the same figure? Height, bust, waist, hips, weight, everything—not to mention coloration. We were almost the same when we met . . . and then, with Mike’s help, we matched up exactly and are holding it that way. Even our faces are getting more alike—but we didn’t plan that. That just comes from doing the same things and thinking about the same things. Stand up and let Ben look at us, dear.”

Dawn put her plate aside and did so, in a pose that reminded Ben oddly of Jill, more so than the figure resemblance seemed to justify; then he realized it was the exact pose Jill had been in when she had first stood revealed as Mother Eve.

Invited to stare, he did. Jill said, with her mouth full, “See, Ben? That’s me.”

Dawn smiled at her. “A razor’s edge of difference, Gillian.”

“Pooh. You’re getting that control, too. I’m almost sorry we’ll never have the same face. It’s very handy, Ben, for Dawn and myself to look so much alike. We have to have two high priestesses; it’s all two of us can do to keep up with Mike. We can trade places right in the middle of a service—and sometimes do. And besides,” she added, swallowing, “Dawn can buy a fitted dress and it fits me, too. Saves me the nuisance of shopping for clothes. When we wear clothes.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Ben said slowly, “that you still wore clothes at all. Except these priestess things.”

Jill looked surprised. “Do you think we would go out dancing in these? We wear evening dresses, same as everybody else. That’s our favorite way of not getting our beauty sleep, isn’t it, dear? Sit back down and finish your supper; Ben has stared at us long enough for the moment. Ben, there’s a man in that transition group you were just with who’s a perfectly dreamy dancer and this town is loaded with good night clubs—and Dawn and I have kept the poor fellow so busy, alternated keeping him up so many nights in a row, that we’ve had to help him stay awake in language classes. But he’ll be all right; once you reach Eighth Circle you don’t need nearly so much sleep. Whatever made you think we never dressed, dear?”

“Uh—” Ben finally blurted out the embarrassing predicament he had been in.

Jill looked wide-eyed, then barely giggled—and stopped it at once, at which Ben realized that he had heard none of these people laugh . . . only the “marks” in the outer service. “I see. But, darling, I just never got around to taking this robe off. I am wearing it because I have to gobble and git. But had I grokked that that was troubling you, I certainly would have chucked it before I said hello even though I wasn’t sure there was another one handy. We’re so used to dressing or not dressing according to what we need to do that I just plain forgot that I might not be behaving politely. Sweetheart, take those shorts off—or leave them on, exactly as suits you.”