Before his look of mingled amazement and reproach they felt like
Sunday-school children taken to task for having skipped the Kings of
Israel.

"Well," said Sypher, "this is the reward we get for spending millions of
pounds and the shrewdest brains in the country for the benefit of the
public! Have you ever considered what anxious thought, what consummate
knowledge of human nature, what dearly bought experience go to the making
of an advertisement? You'll go miles out of your way to see a picture or a
piece of sculpture that hasn't cost a man half the trouble and money to
produce, and you'll not look at an advertisement of a thing vital to your
life, though it is put before your eyes a dozen times a day. Here's my
card, and here are some leaflets for you to read at your leisure. They will
repay perusal."

He drew an enormous pocketbook from his breast pocket and selected two
cards and two pamphlets, which he laid on the table. Then he arose with an
air of suave yet offended dignity. Zora, seeing that the man, in some
strange way, was deeply hurt, looked up at him with a conciliatory smile.

"You mustn't bear me any malice, Mr. Sypher, because I'm so grateful to you
for saving us from these swindling people."

When Zora smiled into a man's eyes, she was irresistible. Sypher's pink
face relaxed.

"Never mind," he said. "I'll send you all the advertisements I can lay my
hands on in the morning. Au revoir."