As to the thing itself, female beauty, I do not pretend to know any more about it than other people. That it is in its nature a poison has been notorious for thousands of years, attacking the male brain with incredible virulence. This pathological condition of that organ has been spoken of for ages as Love, as everybody knows. But what everybody does not know, is that woman possesses the power of _concentrating_ this toxic exhalation upon a doomed male,—dazzling him with what I may provisionally term beauty’s bull’s-eye lamp. Love is _not_ blind. Just the reverse. The lovelorn see what is invisible to others, that is all; the focussed rays of the most magical of all magic lanterns. Before I made this discovery, I was continually wondering how most of the women I knew had managed to get married; but it is a great comfort to me now to know that they are all beautiful (in the eyes of their husbands). Setting in motion, then, this subtle mechanism, which all women possess (though in some it don’t seem to work), Alice showered down upon Charley, from hazel eyes and sunny hair, from well-turned throat and dimpled hand, from undulating virgin form and momentary ankle-flash,—showered down upon him as she stood there graceful as a gazelle ready to spring, a sparkling wealth of youth and beauty. No matter what Charley said. “I am glad you think so,” said she, fluttering down from her perch. The shining sand was deep; and that’s the reason they walked so slowly; and that’s the reason Alice clung so closely to his arm; and that’s the reason Charley thought he was walking on rosy morning clouds. “Oh!” cried Alice,—and Charley’s face was corrugated with sudden care: had some envious shell dared bruise her alabaster toe? “Did you hurt your foot, — — —est?” “Oh, no; I just remembered that I had forgotten the very thing that I came to the Argo to talk over with you.” “What was that?” Alice looked perplexed. “Tell me, — —ing; what is it?” “I don’t know where to begin.” “At the b-b-b-beginning, of course.” “With some people I should; but do you know that you are a very queer creature?” “Your fault; I was just like other people till I met you,—a little cracked ever since.” “Oh, I like you that way.” And she gave his arm a little involuntary squeeze. [Nothing of the kind. _Al._] “How am I queer, then?” “Well, you never tell people anything.” “I have told you a good many things within the last day or two.” “Only one thing, but that a good many times. But I am not a bit tired of hearing it.” Here Charley gave her hand a voluntary little squeeze against his heart. [Inadequate statement of an actual occurrence. _C. F._] “The fact is, I want to ask you a question, and am actually afraid you won’t answer it. There, I knew you would not! A cloud passed over your face at the very word question. You are so strange about some things!” “Let’s hear the question; what is it about?” “About the Don. There! Why, you are positively frowning!” “Frowning!”