"A celestial Die-hard, sir, paid to join together again those whom man have put asunder."
"I do not follow," said the Angel fretfully.
"I perceive," whispered his dragoman, "that I must make clear to you the spirit which animates our justice in these matters. You know, of course, that the intention of our law is ever to penalise the wrong-doer. It therefore requires the innocent party, like that lady there, to be exceptionally innocent, not only before she secures her divorce, but for six months afterwards."
"Oh!" said the Angel. "And where is the guilty party?"
"Probably in the south of France," returned his dragoman, "with the new partner of his affections. They have a place in the sun; this one a place in the Law Courts."
"Dear me!" said the Angel. "Does she prefer that?"
"There are ladies," his dragoman replied, "who find it a pleasure to appear, no matter where, so long as people can see them in a pretty hat. But the great majority would rather sink into the earth than do this thing."
"The face of this one is most agreeable to me; I should not wish her to sink," said the Angel warmly.
"Agreeable or not," resumed his dragoman, "they have to bring their hearts for inspection by the public if they wish to become free from the party who has done them wrong. This is necessary, for the penalisation of the wrong-doer."
"And how will he be penalised?" asked the Angel naïvely.