-wise sceptic, whose
shafts of satire were gospel truths, and whose Sybarite sort of
existence was worthy of emulation, if one only had the money to follow
it.

Then, as if to cap the climax and Winn's cynical education, he fell in
love with Ethel Sherman, a beauty and a natural-born flirt, whose ideas
of life and maternal training had convinced her that marriage was a
matter of business, and a means by which to obtain position and wealth.

Her family were people of moderate means, living near neighbors to
Winn's aunt and attending the same church. She had an elder sister,
Grace, who had, in her estimation, wrecked her life by marrying a poor
man. And when Winn Hardy, young, handsome and callow, first met her, she
was just home from boarding-school, ready to spread her social wings,
and ripe for conquest.

Winn's aunt was also somewhat to blame in the matter, for she, like many
good women, loved to dabble in match-making, and in her simple mind
fancied it a wise move to bring one about between Ethel and Winn.

Its results were disastrous to his peace of mind, for, after dancing
attendance for a year and spending half he earned on flowers and theatre
tickets, his suit was laughed at and he was assured that only a rich
young man was eligible to her favor.

Then he went back to Jack Nickerson, and, though he outgrew his folly,
his impulsive nature became more pronounced and he a more bitter cynic
than ever. For two years he was but a cipher in business and social
life, a poorly paid bookkeeper in the office of Weston & Hill, a drop in
the rushing, pushing, strenuous life of the city; and then came a
change.

CHAPTER III

THE ROCKHAVEN GRANITE COMPANY

"Please step into my private office, Mr. Hardy," said J. Malcolm Weston,
head of Weston & Hill, bankers, brokers, and investment securities, as
stated on the two massive nickel plates that flanked their doorway, "I
have a matter of business to discuss with you."

Ordinarily Mr. J. Malcolm Weston would have said, "You may step into my
private office, Mr. Hardy," when, as in this case, he addressed his
bookkeeper, for Mr. Weston never forgot his dignity in the presence of a
subordinate. It may be added that he never forgot to address a possible
customer as though he owned millions, for J. Malcolm Weston was master
of the fine art of obsequious deference, and his persuasive smile,
cordial hand grasp, and copious use of flowery language had cost many a
cautiou