“I do not think you will ever wear this again,” she went on. “It has been altered to fit my hand. And though an inexpensive trifle it is a pretty ornament—which I should not consent to part with.” “Since it fits you, you had better wear it,” I remarked. “It was lost fairly, and, as I understand, can only be returned on one condition. As that condition is an impossibility it is much more yours than mine, and I may congratulate you upon the rearrangement of the centre setting.” “What was it that ever made you relinquish your right to it?” she asked. “Since you are wearing it you must know,” I answered. “Not the entire facts,” said she. “Now, tell it me as a story and I will listen carefully.” “I should speak as a prejudiced narrator,” I declared. “You had better ask Plucritus.” “But he would speak as a prejudiced narrator too.” “And you would be prejudiced in his favour, so that you would receive his statement much more readily.” “Are the women on earth always prejudiced in favour of their husbands?” “I do not know. I have never distinctly lived on earth.” “Doesn’t it agree with you?” I laughed. “I have not wit enough to grasp the human intellect,” I replied. “I had always complimented myself that there was a great similarity between the two worlds.” “How old are you?” she queried abruptly. “Alternately as old and young as I appear to be.” “So am I, so are we all,” she observed softly. “Is not the scene round here magnificent?” “Yes,” I replied. “Are those forms on the horizon hills or clouds?” “They are hills,” she said. “Beyond the hills lies one of our great cities. Some day you shall go there—it is very interesting. But now let us return to the house, as I have much to do before the mid-day meal.” Together we went back into the palace, and to the library. There I saw were many newspapers for the day piled together on the table. She sat down beside these with pen and ink and paper, and opening the first at the leading article began to scan the lines. Seeing that the papers really came from the earth I drew nearer. “What are you doing?” I asked at length, when I had watched her busily employed in underlining and writing out various statements from each column. “I’m copying out all the lies,” she answered simply. “The what?” I asked again. “The untruths,” she said apologetically. “They seem pretty numerous in to-day’s papers,” I laughed. “No indeed,” she went on. “There are fewer than usual. No matter however small the prevarication may be, I can always spot it.” “But what is your pleasure in such an unpleasant task?” “It is no pleasure—it is business, and needs thorough concentration.” “But considering your people are the instigators of lies, why don’t they send you down the complete list each day? It would save you the trouble.” She laughed.