Again he chuckled. “Some of our best little badger games, jealousies, murders and other such trivial offenses have been conceived and executed in Harlem flats. Eh, old Original? We call them ‘incubators of discontent.’ I have visited a few in person on special occasions, although generally one of the under-demons proves bad enough to start the regular Harlem crimes. The _Boulevard des Capucines_, Piccadilly, _Unter den Linden_, the _Corso_ and a narrow street called Wall are more usual haunts of mine, offering, as they do, larger opportunities. But this side-issuance is against the rules. Assume that I am fairly well acquainted with the cubbies of modern cliff-dwellers.” “They named me ‘Grief to Men,’ yet I have not meant to be. To explain how the cruel title came to be forced upon me, I must begin in a Harlem flat at about my nineteenth year.” With the tremors of a spent swimmer forced to greater effort against the tide, Dolores breasted her tale. Through that evening’s recital and through those of subsequent evenings, she sought to make of herself a mere entertainer, to remember the “style” demanded, as learned from the border-line literature of the several tongues at her command, to conquer her reluctance and lay bare the facts which had been deemed worthy of so much space in the newspapers of Earth--for sake of those whom indirectly she was protecting, to tell her tale with aptitude as impersonal as though its subject were not herself. Yet in the telling came moments when her continuity broke, when her desperate attempt was abandoned in something more convincing than “style.” Conquered by emotions which had come with her from the mortal world to this strange beyond--emotions of reverence, of love, of passion, of shame--she would fall silent, unable to proceed. At such times her hands would shield her eyes, while the shudders of a modest spirit would plead for reprieve; her head droop until her breast touched the board; her lips refuse for a space to obey her will to divert. Fortunately His Excellency, far from disapproving such violations of the rules which he had imposed, appeared to regard them as superstrokes of a talent patent from the start. They lent to the reality of the tale, prolonged suspense and multiplied his enjoyment in her sufferings. To him, prone to delight in the inherent worst of devils and of men, the words she could not force herself to utter often meant more than those which had fallen from her lips. Again, when his own impatience, increased by that of the demon audience, stripped bare her soul and lashed her, with malevolent threats, into renewed effort, he would chortle aloud from satisfaction in his mental degeneracy. From his infinite fund of information regarding persons of importance whose trails had crossed the girl-soul’s own, he was able frequently to furnish facts regarding others when, at times, she failed.