altogether of content, absolute and complete, recalled to him the
woman pressed against his side. She must be taken care of, disposed
of. Asylum? No. Factory? No, no. Theater, museum? No, no, no. He would
find some man to marry her. There must be someone, lots of men, in
fact, who would marry a girl so lovely, who needn't find out she
smoked until after marriage, or who would not care anyway. All this
might take time. He would be as expeditious as possible, however. He
called Mrs. Leschinger, the landlady, and entrusting the girl to her
care, departed to visit a matrimonial agency he knew of.

He looked over the list of eligibles. He read their misspelled,
crabbedly written letters. There was not one in the lot to whom a man
of conscience could entrust the Moslem flower, even if she did smoke.

"There is apparently not one man of education or refinement in the
whole lot," exclaimed Mr. Middleton.

"That's about right," said the president of the agency. "Between you
and I, there ain't many people of refinement who would go at marrying
in that way. You don't know what a lot of jays and rubes I have to
deal with. Often I threaten to retire. But occasionally a real
gentleman or lady does register in our agency. Object, fun or
matrimony. Now I have one client that is all right, all right except
in one particular. He is a man of thirty-five or six, fine looking,
has a nice house and five thousand dollars a year clear and sure. But
he's stone deaf. He wants a young and handsome girl. Now I could get
him fifty dozen homely young women, or pretty ones that weren't
chickens any longer, real pretty and refined, but you see a real
handsome young girl sort of figures her chances of marrying are good,
that she may catch a man who can hear worth as much as this Crayburn,
which ain't a whole lot, or that if she does marry a poor young chap,
he'll have as much as Crayburn does when he is as old as Crayburn. Now
I'm so sure you'll only have your trouble for your pains, that I won't
charge you anything for his address and a letter of introduction. I
don't believe you have got a girl who will suit, for if you have, she
won't take Crayburn. Here's his picture."

Mr. Middleton looked upon the photograph of a man who seemed to be
possessed of some of the best qualities of manhood. It was true that
there was a slight suspicion of weakness in the face, but above all it
was kindly and sympathetic.

"A good looking man," said Mr. Middleton.