and here, in Chicago."

"Where is your home?"

"It was up in Michigan. That's where Max learned the lumber business.
But he and I have been here for nearly two years."

"Well," said Bannon, "some folks may think it's cold up there, but there
ain't anywhere else to touch it. It's high ground, you know--nothing
like this"--he swept his arm about to indicate the flats outside--"and
the scenery beats anything this side of the Rockies. It ain't that
there's mountains there, you understand, but it's all big and open, and
they've got forests there that would make your Michigan pine woods look
like weeds on a sandhill. And the river's great. You haven't seen
anything really fine till you've seen the rapids in winter. The people
there have a good time too. They know how to enjoy life--it isn't all
grime and sweat and making money."

"Well," said Hilda, looking down at her pencil and drawing aimless
designs as she talked, "I suppose it is a good place to go. I've seen
the pictures, of course, in the time-tables; and one of the railroad
offices on Clark Street used to have some big photographs of the St.
Lawrence in the window. I looked at them sometimes, but I never thought
of really seeing anything like that. I've had some pretty good times on
the lake and over at St. Joe. Max used to take me over to Berrien
Springs last summer, when he could get off. My aunt lives there."

Bannon was buttoning his coat, and looking at her. He felt the different
tone that had got into their talk. It had been impersonal a few minutes
before.

"Oh, St. Joe isn't bad," he was saying; "it's quiet and restful and all
that, but it's not the same sort of thing at all. You go over there and
ride up the river on the May Graham, and it makes you feel lazy and
comfortable, but it doesn't stir you up inside like the St. Lawrence
does."

She looked up. Her eyes were sparkling as they had sparkled that
afternoon on the elevator when she first looked out into the sunset.

"Yes," she replied. "I think I know what you mean. But I never really
felt that way; I've only thought about it."

Bannon turned half away, as if to go.

"You'll have to go down there, that's all," he said abruptly. He looked
back at her over his shoulder, and added, "That's all there is about
it."

Her eyes were half startled, half mischievous, for his voice had been
still less impersonal than before. Then she turned back to her work, her
face sober, but an amused twinkle ling