Waiting alone in the midst of her uncle’s grotesque curios, with the green and pleasant, godless smell of new-cut grass wafting in from outside, the still-proud Princess thought once more of tall Trader Sargon, the sensitive genius who had known her in ways even she did not suspect. He was now, according to the message on the dagger, a prisoner in the very castle he had once owned.
   Just then, came a flurry of activity, and she rose to face the inevitable. He was here! “I couldn’t stay away, Randy Lil!” he mumbled in his halting Spanish.
   Then, without any warning, the glow of renewed love gradually overcame her mounting desire for dinner, and as he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him, she took a moment to plan some of the details of their pre-nuptial agreement.