pared me that indignity--or
denied me that happiness--as you may look at it. I am not like other
people, as you justly remark. I need not say that it is the other people
who are the losers."

"The strange thing is, that you should be able to believe so much of
yourself when you find it so hard to believe good of your fellow-men."

"I object to the expression, 'fellow-men,'" returned Keyork promptly.
"I dislike phrases, and, generally, maxims as a whole, and all their
component parts. A woman must have invented that particular phrase of
yours in order to annoy a man she disliked."

"And why, if you please?"

"Because no one ever speaks of 'fellow-women.' The question of woman's
duty to man has been amply discussed since the days of Menes the
Thinite--but no one ever heard of a woman's duty to her fellow-women;
unless, indeed, her duty is to try and outdo them by fair means or foul.
Then why talk of man and his fellow-men? I can put the wisest rule of
life into two short phrases."

"Give me the advantage of your wisdom."

"The first rule is, Beware of women."

"And the second?"

"Beware of men," laughed the little sage. "Observe the simplicity and
symmetry. Each rule has three words, two of which are the same in each,
so that you have the result of the whole world's experience at your
disposal at the comparatively small expenditure of one verb, one
preposition, and two nouns."

"There is little room for love in your system," remarked Unorna, "for
such love, for instance, as you described to me a few minutes ago."

"There is too much room for it in yours," retorted Keyork. "Your system
is constantly traversed in all directions by bodies, sometimes nebulous
and sometimes fiery, which move in unknown orbits at enormous rates of
speed. In astronomy they call them comets, and astronomers would be much
happier without them."

"I am not an astronomer."

"Fortunately for the peace of the solar system. You have been sending
your comets dangerously near to our sick planet," he added, pointing to
the sleeper. "If you do it again he will break up into asteroids. To use
that particularly disagreeable and suggestive word invented by men, he
will die."

"He seems no worse," said Unorna, contemplating the massive, peaceful
face.

"I do not like the word 'seems,'" answered Keyork. "It is the refuge
of inaccurate persons, unable to distinguish between facts and
appearances."

"You object to everything to-day. Are there