He was still wondering what to do as he rose to his feet when Barry approached him.

"Welcome, brother." He had a deep, sonorous voice.

"Welcome," echoed Hamish.

"How did you hear of us?" asked Barry.

"Och, you know how it is," said Hamish. "I overheard someone talking about it."

"And what troubles you, brother?"

"Maybe another time. I see folks are leaving."

Barry put a hand on Hamish's shoulder and stared up into Hamish's hazel eyes. "I am on call night and day. Speak, brother."

"I don't think you can help me," said Hamish. "My troubles are not sexual."

"We talk of other things," said Barry. "But most people are plagued with sins of the flesh."

"I've often wondered why when anyone thinks of sin, they think of sex," said Hamish, his treacherous Highland curiosity aroused. "What about malicious gossip, ill will, unkindness?"

"You will find, brother, that all bad feelings stem from repressed sexuality."

"But I'm not sexually repressed."

"Ah, you think you are not, but excess of sex can in its way be a repression."

Hamish was about to complain that he was hardly suffering from that either, but decided on the spot to become a member and see if there was even a smell of drugs about the place.

"I suffer from deep depression," he lied. "Sometimes I just don't want to get out o' bed in the mornings."

"Ah, well, we must explore the root core of your depression. What is your job?"

"Nothing at the moment. I'm looking for one."

Barry reached up and put an arm around Hamish's shoulders. "There is a quality of innocence in you that I like. I tell you what, I could do with a helper here. I cannot afford to pay you much."