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Paul began to feel interested as the Doctor forced the practical issue upon his attention.

“The consequences of any change from the special form of your own hand would only prove that the other fellow’s hands do not fit your personality.”

Paul, who really knew much more about persons than personalities, blew another cloud of smoke towards the ceiling, and listened.

“You know, Nature never makes any mistakes.”

“I hope not, or I’m a goner,” quizzed Paul.

“And personality is really made up of three in one, a trinity of the physical, mental, and spiritual. You’re a sort of trinity yourself, my boy. You’ll find it out some day if you don’t swap hands with some other fellow and spoil your own combination.”

“What did you learn by holding Miss Cultus’ hand?”

The Doctor was a little slow in replying, in fact, choosing which of the many things he had observed was the particular one to which he had best call Paul’s attention. Then he spoke:

“She shows marked individuality based upon rather a rare type, yet a mixed hand; most Americans and Chinese are mixed. You know, pure types are very rare.”