Then I caught my breath, for we were there. There in the parlor, and
Marget standing looking at us, astonished. She was feeble and pale, but
I knew that those conditions would not last in Satan's atmosphere, and it
turned out so. I introduced Satan--that is, Philip Traum--and we sat
down and talked. There was no constraint. We were simple folk, in our
village, and when a stranger was a pleasant person we were soon friends.
Marget wondered how we got in without her hearing us. Traum said the
door was open, and we walked in and waited until she should turn around
and greet us. This was not true; no door was open; we entered through
the walls or the roof or down the chimney, or somehow; but no matter,
what Satan wished a person to believe, the person was sure to believe,
and so Marget was quite satisfied with that explanation. And then the
main part of her mind was on Traum, anyway; she couldn't keep her eyes
off him, he was so beautiful. That gratified me, and made me proud. I
hoped he would show off some, but he didn't. He seemed only interested
in being friendly and telling lies. He said he was an orphan. That made
Marget pity him. The water came into her eyes. He said he had never
known his mamma; she passed away while he was a young thing; and said his
papa was in shattered health, and had no property to speak of--in fact,
none of any earthly value--but he had an uncle in business down in the
tropics, and he was very well off and had a monopoly, and it was from
this uncle that he drew his support. The very mention of a kind uncle
was enough to remind Marget of her own, and her eyes filled again. She
said she hoped their two uncles would meet, some day. It made me
shudder. Philip said he hoped so, too; and that made me shudder again.

"Maybe they will," said Marget. "Does your uncle travel much?"

"Oh yes, he goes all about; he has business everywhere."