ter lunch, while Sypher
was away putting the fear of God into his agent, during which hour he had
unfolded to her his scientific philosophy of perambulators--"after all,"
said Sypher, "the great thing is to have a Purpose in Life. Everyone can't
have my Purpose "--he apologized for humanity--"but they can have some
guiding principle. What's yours?"

Zora was startled by the unexpected question. What was her Purpose in Life?
To get to the heart of the color of the world? That was rather vague. Also
nonsensical when so formulated. She took refuge in jest.

"I thought you had decided that my mission was to help you slay the
dragon?"

"We have to decide on our missions for ourselves," said he.

"Don't you think it sufficient Purpose for a woman who has been in a gray
prison all her life--when she finds herself free--to go out and see all
that is wonderful in scenery like this, in paintings, architecture,
manners, and customs of other nations, in people who have other ideas and
feelings from those she knew in prison? You speak as if you're finding
fault with me for not doing anything useful. Isn't what I do enough? What
else can I do?"

"I don't know," said Sypher, looking at the back of his gloves; then he
turned his head and met her eyes in one of his quick glances. "But you,
with your color and your build and your voice, seem somehow to me to stand
for Force--there's something big about you--just as there's something big
about me--Napoleonic--and I can't understand why it doesn't act in some
particular direction."

"Oh, you must give me time," cried Zora. "Time to expand, to find out what
kind of creature I really am. I tell you I've been in prison. Then I
thought I was free and found a purpose, as you call it. Then I had a
knock-down blow. I am a widow--I supposed you've guessed. Oh, now, don't
speak. It wasn't grief. My married life was a six-weeks' misery. I forget
it. I went away from home free five months ago--to see all this"--she waved
her hand--"for the first time. Whatever force I have has been devoted to
seeing it all, to taking it all in."

She spoke earnestly, just a bit passionately. In the silence that followed
she realized with sudden amazement that she had opened her heart to this
prime apostle of quackery. As he made no immediate reply, the silence grew
tense and she clasped her hands tight, and wondered, as her sex has done
from time immemorial, why on earth she had spoken. When he answered it was