"We never play," said Zora.

"Neither do I," said Sypher.

"The real way to enjoy Monte Carlo is to regard these rooms as
non-existent. I wish they were."

"Oh, don't say that," Sypher exclaimed quickly. "They are most useful. They
have a wisely ordained purpose. They are the meeting-place of the world. I
come here every year and make more acquaintances in a day than I do
elsewhere in a month. Soon I shall know everybody and everybody will know
me, and they'll take away with them to Edinburgh and Stockholm and Uruguay
and Tunbridge Wells--to all corners of the earth--a personal knowledge of
the cure."

"Oh--I see. From that point of view--" said Zora.

"Of course. What other could there be? You see the advantage? It makes the
thing human. It surrounds it with personality. It shows that 'Friend of
Humanity' isn't a cant phrase. They recommend the cure to their friends.
'Are you sure it's all right?' they are asked. 'Of course it is,' they can
reply. _'I know the man, Clem Sypher himself.'_ And the friends are
convinced and go about saying they know a man who knows Clem Sypher, and so
the thing spreads like a snowball. Have you read the pamphlet?"

"It was most interesting," said Zora mendaciously.

"I thought you'd find it so. I've brought something in my pocket for you."

He searched and brought out a couple of little red celluloid boxes, which