ere to borrow pictures for reproduction.

"Witla! Witla!" he commented in his conservative German way, rubbing his
chin, "I doand remember seeing anything by him."

"Of course you don't," replied Norma persistently. "He's new, I tell
you. He hasn't been here so very long. You get _Truth_ for some week in
last month--I forget which one--and see that picture of Greeley Square.
It will show you what I mean."

"Witla! Witla!" repeated Zang, much as a parrot might fix a sound in its
memory. "Tell him to come in here and see me some day. I should like to
see some of his things."

"I will," said Norma, genially. She was anxious to have Eugene go, but
he was more anxious to get a lot of things done before he had an
exhibition. He did not want to risk an impression with anything short of
a rather extensive series. And his collection of views was not complete
at that time. Besides he had a much more significant art dealer in mind.

He and Norma had reached the point by this time where they were like
brother and sister, or better yet, two good men friends. He would slip
his arm about her waist when entering her rooms and was free to hold her
hands or pat her on the arm or shoulder. There was nothing more than
strong good feeling on his part, while on hers a burning affection might
have been inspired, but his genial, brotherly attitude convinced her
that it was useless. He had never told her of any of his other women
friends and he was wondering as he rode west how she and Miriam Finch
would take his marriage with Angela, supposing that he ever did marry
her. As for Christina Channing, he did not want to think--really did not
dare to think of her very much. Some sense of lost beauty came to him
out of that experience--a touch of memory that had a pang in it.

Chicago in June was just a little dreary to him with its hurry of life,
its breath of past experience, the Art Institute, the _Daily Globe_
building, the street and house in which Ruby had lived. He wondered
about her (as he had before) the moment he neared the city, and had a
strong desire to go and look her up. Then he visited the _Globe_
offices, but Mathews had gone. Genial, cheerful Jerry had moved to
Philadelphia recently, taking a position on the Philadelphia _North
American_, leaving Howe alone, more finicky and picayune than ever.
Goldfarb, of course, was gone and Eugene felt out of it. He was glad to
take the train for Blackwood, for he felt lonesome. He left th