“Don’t go through the list,” His Majesty objected. “I’ve had many a laugh over the choice assortment. Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief, richman, poorman, beggar-man----” “Thief?” John interrupted in his turn. “I am the thief. And even I, the most culpable of all, have ‘come back’ in the opinion of my fellows--have been rewarded as was everybody concerned in her ruin.” “Yes, even down to that delightful old woman who was so anxious to get her gas bill paid.” At the King’s interjection, Dolores sank back into the throne-chair. Against its high back he leaned for support in his loudening laughter. John Cabot did not laugh. With each peal of Satan’s mirth, his frown darkened. “I am not afraid of you and your ridicule. If the double-standard rule is the law to which you refer--if that holds beyond the jurisdiction of Earth--then doubly do I intend to break it.” “_You_ intend? Really, you are--too funny--funnier than all--the rest!” His Majesty struggled for control of his risibilities. “Allow me to say that your visit, although something of a surprise to one who does not often have ’em, is not unwelcome. It is, in fact, almost too gratifying to be true. You’re a bold, if not bad man. I have need of your sort. Of course, you’ll have to be born again. All good men must be regenerated down here.” “You don’t intend, then--” Dolores half turned--“that he shall go back?” “My poor child, do you expect me to flout the gift of Providence--even one sent down like this, C. O. D.? He has about as much chance of going back, this snuffed flame of yours, as you yourself.” Stiffening from his negligent pose, he seated himself upon one arm of the throne-chair and leaned over her confidentially. “Mayhap you and I would have been even more companionable had you appreciated how much I, too, have longed for the coming of John Cabot. Perhaps it is foolish of me, but I find I’m just a bit jealous of your quondam lovers. I’d like to have them all down here as sort of safety valves when I get bad and mad. Having only John, I’d be less than inhuman to give up taking it out on him. Besides that great experiment on myself, there’s a lesser one I wish to try out on you. Now, now, sweet Grief, don’t worry! Nothing painful. Rather one whose success will bring you delight.” “Please to--tell me--what you mean?” faltered Dolores. “I’ve noticed that when the only man a woman earthling ever really loved demises--shuffles quite beyond her reach, you know--she proceeds to love, as soon as she can locate him, the second only ever man. I’d like to demonstrate that the rule holds down here. You wouldn’t be true to type if you didn’t have a lingering sort of affection for every one of your ex-onlies.” “But I don’t see----”