“Would that I needed an army of innocents instead of the one superlative!” He stepped to the open door on the right. “Mrs. Hutton!” There was a click in his voice. “Kindly be my board of elimination, Mary,” he instructed the handsome, white-haired woman who responded. “This galaxy of guilelessness is too much for little Vin. My alleged discrimination is blinded, my business shrewdness reels, my senses---- Yes, yes, I know that the lord of lingerie shouldn’t have ’em, senses. But what can a mere man do?” He laid one arm about her shoulders and leaned against her, as if for support. “Merer than man,” she said and, as though from dislike, shrugged him off. “Jealous again, dear heart?” Although he had smiled with the question, her answer made him flush. “A sensible woman isn’t jealous of a thought.” “Be good enough, by processes of detection best known to your sex,” he instructed her more briskly, “to reduce this bevy to five of the most natural. I’ll see them in the studio.” Something additional he murmured into her ear. She returned him a strange look. “In twenty minutes I’ll show in the five,” said she competently. The shop-man addressed the array of applicants. “You will understand, young and pretty creatures, that refusal implies no aspersion, either upon your looks or, shall I say, your artful effect of artlessness. Unfortunately the house of Seff can utilize but one of you and stern business commands the selection of her best suited to our particular needs. Thanks for the sight of each and all.” With a winning smile, generally distributed, he bowed low, backed to the chintz-curtained doorway through which he had entered and disappeared into what, evidently, was the studio. Not once had his glance paused in the vicinity of Dolores Trent. She, in complete reversal of last night’s concept of a Fate especially interested in herself, lingered only to watch proceedings. The softer lines which had made Mrs. Hutton’s face attractive disappeared with her employer. Sentiment evidently was to have no place in these “processes of detection best known to her sex.” She formed the seventy-odd applicants in lines, before which she walked, looking each closely in the face. “Girls wearing rouge to this side of the room.” No one moved. With women’s headiest hope, each evidently relied upon the artistry of her make-up. Mary Hutton again started along the lines. Authoritatively she tapped this rose-blush blond and that brilliant brunette.