"Seems to me that I have heard that Madame Venus did not approve of
the match," I vouchsafed.

"No. She didn't from the start," said Cupid. "Psyche was too pretty,
and ma rather wanted to corner all the feminine beauty in our family;
but I had my way in the end. I generally do," the little chap added,
with a chuckle.

"But the separation, my dear boy?" I put in. "I am awfully sorry to
hear of that. I, in common with most mortals, supposed that the
marriage was idyllic."

"It was," said Cupid, "and therefore not practical enough to be a good
investment. You see, sir, there was a time when the love affairs of
the universe were intrusted to my care. Lovers everywhere came to me
to confide their woes, and I was doing a great business. Everybody was
pleased with my way of conducting my department. I seemed to have a
special genius for managing a love affair. Even persons who were
opposed to the administration conceded that the Under Secretary of
Home Affairs--myself--was assured of a cabinet office for life,
whatever party was in power. If Pluto had been able to get elected,
the force of public opinion would have kept me in office. Then I
married, myself, and things changed. Like a dutiful husband, I had no
secrets from my wife. I couldn't have had if I had wanted to. Psyche's
curiosity was a close second to Pandora's, and, if she wanted to know
anything, there was never any peace in the family until she found out
all about it. Still, I didn't wish to have any secrets from her. As a
scientific expert in Love, I knew that the surest basis of a lasting
happiness lay in mutual confidence. Hence, I told Psyche all I knew,