dsome, so full of strong male youth and joy, of large hopes
and careless intentions, and he was also exotic to Milly,--a bit of that
older, more complex civilization she had always longed for in her
prairie limitations. His horizon had been broader than hers, she felt,
though he was a mere boy in worldly knowledge. He even dressed
differently from the men she knew, with a dash of daring color in
waistcoat and ties that proclaimed the budding artist. And above all he
embodied the Romance of Art,--that fatal lure for aspiring womankind.
The sphere of creation is hermaphroditic: he too was fine and feminine,
unlike the coarser types of men. He craved Reputation and would have it,
Milly assured him confidently. She was immediately convinced of his high
talent. Alas! She sighed when she said it, for she knew that his gifts
would quickly waft him beyond her reach on his upward way. Chicago could
not hold one like him long: he was for other, beautifuller ports of
destiny!

* * * * *

At four forty-five on the afternoon of September first,--a Monday,--a
tall, somewhat nervous man rang the bell of 31 East Acacia Street and
inquired for Miss Ridge. He came in and waited when he learned from the
little old lady who opened the door that Milly was not at home. He
waited in the small front room, sombrely darkened, where the tragedy of
Milly's first engagement ring had taken place,--waited until six
forty-five, then at the signs of preparation for the evening meal
slipped out. But he was back at seven forty-five and again came in. This
time Mrs. Ridge introduced herself and invited him politely to await her
granddaughter's return. "She's very uncertain in her hours," the old
lady explained with a deprecatory little laugh, "since she has
undertaken this newspaper work. It seems to keep her at the office a
great deal of late...." We may leave Edgar Duncan there in the little
front room, being entertained by Mrs. Ridge in her most gracious manner,
while we go in search of the truant Milly.

* * * * *

She might have been found at an unpretentious German beer-garden far out
on the North Side. Bragdon and Milly had discovered this particular
retreat, which was small and secluded and usually rather empty. It
seemed to Milly quite "Bohemian" to drop into the garden late in the
afternoon and rouse the sleepy proprietor to fetch them cool stone mugs
of foaming beer, which the ar