"No imagination!" I exclaimed.

"None in the world! Not one ounce of imagination! Not one grain!"

"Then who," I cried--"or what--is Simpledoria?"

"Simple--what?" she said, plainly mystified.

"Simpledoria."

"Simpledoria?" she repeated, and laughed. "What in the world is that?"

"You never heard of it before?"

"Never in my life."

"You've lived next door to Mr. Beasley a long time, haven't you?"

"All my life."

"And I suppose you must know him pretty well."

"What next?" she said, smiling.

"You said he lived there all alone," I went on, tentatively.

"Except for an old colored couple, his servants."

"Can you tell me--" I hesitated. "Has he ever been thought--well,