ness toward him. The lie was made stingless by the customer's
credulity. This brought a smile of subtle relief to Gilmartin's lips.
He was a pleasant-faced, pleasant-voiced man of three-and-thirty. He
exhaled health, contentment, neatness, and an easy conscience. Honesty
and good-nature shone in his eyes. People liked to shake hands with him.
It made his friends talk of his lucky star; and they envied him.

"I bought this yesterday for my wife; took it out of a little deal in
Trolley," he told Hopkins, taking a small jewel-box from one of the
desk's drawers. It contained a diamond ring, somewhat showy, but
obviously quite expensive. Hopkins's semi-envious admiration made
Gilmartin add, genially: "What do you say to lunch? I feel I am entitled
to a glass of 'fizz' to forget my bad luck of this morning." Then, in
an exaggeratedly apologetic tone: "Nobody likes to lose five hundred
dollars on an empty stomach!"

"She'll be delighted, of course," said Hopkins, thinking of Mrs.
Gilmartin. Mrs. Hopkins loved jewelry.

"She's the nicest little woman that ever lived. Whatever is mine is
hers; and what's hers is her own. Ha! ha! But," becoming nicely serious,
"all that I'll make out of the stock market I'm going to put away for
her, in her name. She can take better care of it than I; and, besides,
she's entitled to it, anyhow, for being so nice to me."

That is how he told what a good husband he was. He felt so pleased over
it that he went on, sincerely regretful: "She's visiting friends
in Pennsylvania or I'd ask you to dine with us." And they went to a
fashionable restaurant together.

Day after day Gilmartin thought persistently that Maiden Lane was too
far from Wall Street. There came a week in which he could have made four
very handsome "turns" had he but been in the brokers' office. He was out
on business for his firm and when he returned the opportunity had
gone, leaving behind it vivid visions of what might have been; also the
conviction that time, tide, and the ticker wait for no man. Instead of
buying and selling quinine and balsams and essential oils for Maxwell
& Kip, drug brokers and importers, he decided to make the buying and
selling of stocks and bonds his exclusive business. The hours were easy;
the profits would be great. He would make enough to live on. He would
not let the Street take away what it had given. That was the great
secret: to know when to quit! He would be content with a moderate
amount, wise