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 better concerning powerful lens—whatever they are.

"During his homeward journey he will occupy the time writing a book of his trip to the moon. Really, I think we've all done first rate; couldn't have done better. We accomplished what we set out to do. But, there's Virgillius," he looked over at me and shook his head reprovingly, "he's simply our millionaire Salucci, the same as formerly. He's gained knowledge, of course, but he won't air it to the world. Yet, come to think of it, he's been about as successful as any of us. He came in search of a woman—and found her."

He smiled encouragingly at me and opined that mine was a mission more difficult than any.

"His was a fancy, mythical, intangible," said Saxe. "A tantalizing dream, a hallucination, and the realization more marvelous than the imagination. Virgillius should be happy; he is the first man in creation that ever realized the ideal and made it his own. He has succeeded where all men fail."

I sprang joyously to my feet, his words invigorated faint hope; but he hurried to me and anxiously grasped my shoulder.

"You return with us, Virgillius," he said: "we cannot; nay, we dare not leave you with these strange people."

"You make me mad with joy!" I cried. "I love! ah, how I love! but hopelessly, hopelessly."

All smiled.

"Poor actor," laughed Saxe.; "pretense too