Alonzo contemplated her, wonderingly; then, as if dismissing the whole thing, he said in a tone that hinted of impetuosity, “Let us not talk of Chicago, nor the Yards. Let us forget the smelly things and the dead ones. Let us only think of each other, Miss Sheets,” and he drew closer to her. “Miss Sheets, Imogene, my own, my very own, tell me, tell me now that you feel a subtle something drawing you to ME!” The sharp, bright eyes of the Typewriter opened with astonishment. It was the lady’s turn to look bewildered. She gazed blankly at the smitten Seer who had already dropped on one knee. She gazed upon him in wonderment. It was the look of mingled awe and admiration a child bestows upon a circus Poster. “I--I--don’t catch on,” she said simply. The rapt lover smiled. It was a pale, luminous ripple of compassion. He lifted himself to the perpendicular--drawing still closer. He gazed upon her. He seemed almost ready to take her hand. “Most perfect of mortals,” he began. “Let me explain: “As you may have heard, I am under orders for Gnaniship. To accomplish this I must soon go from the sophomore grade of Illinois to the senior course in far off Hindustan. In the line of my profession I come to know pretty much everything. I am as familiar with the IS, as with the APPARENT. The NOTHINGNESS of the IS NOT I have demonstrated several times. The oneness of UNITY and the ISNESS of BEING I have already mastered. And by a patient pursuit of the WHITHER and WHENCE, I have anticipated my contemporaries by thousands of years. I have distanced posterity by many a lap.” The Mystic paused to note the impression he was making. Then he went on;--“Through the esoteric fundaments of nature and through certain occult experiments in primordial polarity, I was enabled to apprehend, to comprehend, to cognize the great law of affinity. I discovered that somewhere there was a ONE, a particular ONE, a dear, sweet, beautiful SHE to whom I was bound in protoplasmic energies and biological consequences. “And there came a time when she whom I sought was visioned in the astral light. I saw her--SHE--that one, essential, correlated SHE,--SHE that was my other half--that satisfying SHE--that only SHE--was none other than your own sweet self, Miss Sheets. “Nay, do not interrupt me. It was not until you realized in material substance this ethereal vision that I had, as it were, solved the problem. I had proved the law. Though as yet far beneath MYSELF in physical refinement, mental acquirements and spiritual illumination, I am yet resolved to accept you as my own and wait until you _do attain_. I am patient. I can and will wait until you have been instructed in the Path of Yog, and attain to ME. And now, my own, speak to me. Express your joy. Speak, ah, speak!”