and that had been done too often. . . . Ouida's characters had amusing adventures; they were cut out of coloured paper to be pinned on as the composition directed. I think, Campaspe began to reason, that Waldo Frank should read Ouida. I wonder if he ever has. But she apprehended that Waldo Frank would not understand or appreciate the work of Louise de la Ramé, and so a reading would have no effect on his own future writing. It was characteristic of Campaspe that she began to feel a little sorry for Waldo Frank.
Two white doves floated down from the blue and settled on the fountain, one on the curly head of Eros, the other on a stiff narcissus stem. She listened to their soft cooing and watched their graceful movements. She recalled the case of the prisoner in the death-house at Sing Sing, who had undergone an operation for appendicitis two days before the hour set for his execution. Skilled surgeons had been rushed from New York to save his life so that he would not die and "cheat the chair," as the New York Times put it. There also lingered in her hospitable memory the story of the derelict who had been fed by the Y. M. C. A. The secretary of a branch of that organization had offered the fellow regular meals and employment if . . . IF he would put himself completely in the hands of the Y. M. C. A. and profess a belief in God. The man had refused, she recalled with delight. Nothing remained to him but his free will, and he
