I looked at the parcel: it was marked: "Bimba leaves; Johore." With a sigh of unutterable relief, I picked up the ravenous little caterpillar, placed him on the packet, and turned to go. And didn't. It is a very sickening fact I have now to record. But to a scientist all facts are sacred, sickening or otherwise. For what I caught a glimpse of, just outside the door in the hallway, was Jones kissing Mildred Case. And being shyly indemnified for his trouble with a gentle return in kind. Both his arms were around her waist; both her hands rested upon his shoulders; and, as I looked--but let it pass!--let it pass. Deliberately I fished in my pocket, found my packet of cigarettes, lighted one. _Tobacco diffugiunt mordaces curae et laetificat cor hominis!_