ld, dim silence of the earliest dawn Curtis Jadwin went to bed, only
to lie awake, staring up into the darkness, planning, devising new
measures, reviewing the day's doings, while the faint tides of blood
behind the eardrums murmured ceaselessly to the overdriven brain,
"Wheat--wheat--wheat, wheat--wheat--wheat. Forty million bushels, forty
million, forty million."

Whole days now went by when he saw his wife only at breakfast and at
dinner. At times she was angry, hurt, and grieved that he should leave
her so much alone. But there were moments when she was sorry for him.
She seemed to divine that he was not all to blame.

What Laura thought he could only guess. She no longer spoke of his
absorption in business. At times he thought he saw reproach and appeal
in her dark eyes, at times anger and a pride cruelly wounded. A few
months ago this would have touched him. But now he all at once broke
out vehemently:

"You think I am wilfully doing this! You don't know, you haven't a
guess. I corner the wheat! Great heavens, it is the wheat that has
cornered me! The corner made itself. I happened to stand between two
sets of circumstances, and they made me do what I've done. I couldn't
get out of it now, with all the good will in the world. Go to the
theatre to-night with you and the Cresslers? Why, old girl, you might
as well ask me to go to Jericho. Let that Mr. Corthell take my place."

And very naturally this is what was done. The artist sent a great bunch
of roses to Mrs. Jadwin upon the receipt of her invitation, and after
the play had the party to supper in his apartments, that overlooked the
Lake Front. Supper over, he escorted her, Mrs. Cressler, and Page back
to their respective homes.

By a coincidence that struck them all as very amusing, he was the only
man of the party. At the last moment Page had received a telegram from
Landry. He was, it appeared, sick, and in bed. The day's work on the
Board of Trade had quite used him up for the moment, and his doctor
forbade him to stir out of doors. Mrs. Cressler explained that Charlie
had something on his mind these days, that was making an old man of him.

"He don't ever talk shop with me," she said. "I'm sure he hasn't been
speculating, but he's worried and fidgety to beat all I ever saw, this
last week; and now this evening he had to take himself off to meet some
customer or other at the Palmer House."

They dropped Mrs. Cressler at the door of her home and then w