to go through with it; it's their own choice."

Said Carpenter: "You have never thought of it as the choice of God?"

"Holy smoke!" exclaimed the critic. "I sure never did!"

At that moment one of the doors was opened. Rosythe turned his eyes.
"Ah, Madame Planchet!" he cried. "Come tell us about it!"



IX


A stoutish woman out of a Paris fashion-plate came trotting across
the room, smiling in welcome: "Meester Rosythe!" She had black
earrings flapping from each ear, and her face was white, with a
streak of scarlet for lips. She took the critic by his two hands,
and the critic, laughing, said: "Respondez, Madame! Does God bring
the ladies to this place?"

"Ah, surely, Meester Rosythe! The god of beautee, he breengs them to
us! And the leetle god with the golden arrow, the rosy cheeks and
the leetle dimple--the dimple that we make heem for two hundred
dollars a piece--eh, Meester Rosythe? He breengs the ladies to us!"

The critic turned. "Madame Planchet, permit me to introduce Mr.
Carpenter. He is a man of wonder, he heals pain, and does it by
means of love."