'How is Scott?' he asked.

Maggie Brown looked up and a slightly guarded expression seemed to settle over her like a fine veil. 'Fine. He says that he's never felt so good but I think he's lost some weight.' Baedecker had an image of his stocky son, in crew cut and T-shirt, wanting to play shortstop on the Houston Little League team but being too slow, fit only for right field. 'How is his asthma? Has this humidity caused it to kick up again?'

'No, the asthma's cured,' said Maggie levelly. 'The Master cured it, according to Scott.' Baedecker blinked. Even in recent years, in his empty apartment, he had found himself listening for the coughs, the raspy breathing. He remembered the times he had held the boy like an infant through the night, rocking him, both of them frightened by the gurgling in his lungs. 'Are you a follower of this . . . of the Master?' Maggie laughed and the veil seemed to slip from her green eyes. 'No. I wouldn't be here if I were. They don't allow them to leave the ashram for more than a few hours.'

'Hmmm,' said Baedecker and glanced at his watch. Ninety minutes until his flight left for Bombay.

'It'll be late,' said Maggie.

'Oh?' Baedecker wasn't sure of what she was talking about. 'Your flight. It'll be late. What are you going to do until Tuesday?' Baedecker had not thought about that. It was Thursday morning. He had planned to be in Bombay this same afternoon, see the electronics people and their earth station on Friday, take the train to Poona to visit Scott over the weekend, and fly out of Bombay for home on Monday afternoon.

'I'm not sure,' he said. 'Stay in Bombay a couple of extra days, I suppose. What was so important about this retreat that Scott couldn't take some time off?'

'Nothing,' said Maggie Brown. She drank the last of her tea and set the cup down with an abrupt movement that held the hint of anger. 'It's the same stuff as always. Lectures from the Master. Solitude sessions. Dances.'