"Guardian?
Council ?" Then turning his back on the new comer, he asked in an undertone, "Why is this man _glaring_ at me?
Is he a mesmerist ?" "Mesmerist! He is a capillotomist." "Capillotomist!" "Yes--one of the chief.

His yearly fee is sixdoz lions." It sounded sheer nonsense.

Graham snatched at the last phrase with an unsteady mind.

"Sixdoz lions ?" he said.
"Didn't you have lions?
I suppose not.

You had the old pounds?
They are our monetary units." "But what was that you said--sixdoz ?" "Yes.