s `the mechanical age'--a vulgar error. My dear sir, you and I
know that it is the age of Woman! Even poets have begun to see
that she is alive. Formerly we did not speak of her at all, but of
late years she has become such a scandal that she is getting
talked about. Even our dramas, which used to be all blood, have
become all flesh. I wish I were dead--but will continue my
harangue because the thought is pellucid. Women selecting men to
mate with are of only two kinds, just as there are but two kinds
of children in a toy-shop. One child sets its fancy on one
partic"--the orator paused, then continued--"on one certain toy
and will make a distressing scene if she doesn't get it: she will
have that one; she will go straight to it, clasp it and keep it;
she won't have any other. The other kind of woman is to be
understood if you will make the experiment of taking the other
kind of child to a toy-shop and telling her you will buy her any
toy in the place, but that you will buy her only one. If you do
this in the morning, she will still be in the shop when it is
closing for the night, because, though she runs to each toy in
turn with excitement and delight, she sees another over her
shoulder, and the one she has not touched is always her
choice--until she has touched it! Some get broken in the handling.
For my part, my wires are working rather rustily, but I must obey
the Stage-Manager. For my requiem I wish somebody would ask them
to play Gounod's masterpiece."

"What's that?" asked Corliss, amused.

"`The Funeral March of a Marionette!'"

"I suppose you mean that for a cheerful way of announcing that you
are a fatalist."

"Fatalism? That is only a word," declared Mr. Vilas gravely. "If I
am not a puppet then I am a god. Somehow, I do not seem to be a
god. If a god is a god, one thinks he would know it himself. I now
yield the floor. Thanking you cordially, I believe there is a lady
walking yonder who commands salutation."

He rose to his feet, bowing profoundly. Cora Madison was passing,
strolling rather briskly down the street, not in the direction of
her home. She waved her parasol with careless gayety to the trio
under the trees, and, going on, was lost to their sight.

"Hello!" exclaimed Corliss, looking at his watch with a start of
surprise. "I have two letters to write for the evening mail. I
must be off."

At this, Ray Vilas's eyes--still fixed upon him, as they had been
throughout the visit--opened to th