aired child. She knew he liked her art instincts and she strove
to gratify them, affecting the peculiar and the exceptional. She would
place a candle under a red shade on a small table by her bed and pretend
to have been reading, the book being usually tossed to one side on the
coverlet where he would see it lying when he came. He would enter
silently, gathering her up in his arms as she dozed, kissing her lips to
waken her, carrying her in his arms into the front room to caress her
and whisper his passion. There was no cessation of this devotion to Ruby
the while he was declaring his love for Angela, and he really did not
see that the two interfered greatly. He loved Angela, he thought. He
liked Ruby, thought she was sweet. He felt sorry for her at times
because she was such a little thing, so unthinking. Who was going to
marry her eventually? What was going to become of her?

Because of this very attitude he fascinated the girl who was soon ready
to do anything for him. She dreamed dreams of how nice it would be if
they could live in just a little flat together--all alone. She would
give up her art posing and just keep house for him. He talked to her of
this--imagining it might possibly come to pass--realizing quite fully
that it probably wouldn't. He wanted Angela for his wife, but if he had
money he thought Ruby and he might keep a separate place--somehow. What
Angela would think of this did not trouble him--only that she should not
know. He never breathed anything to either of the other, but there were
times when he wondered what they would think each of the other if they
knew. Money, money, that was the great deterrent. For lack of money he
could not marry anybody at present--neither Angela nor Ruby nor anyone
else. His first duty, he thought, was so to place himself financially
that he could talk seriously to any girl. That was what Angela expected
of him, he knew. That was what he would have to have if he wanted Ruby.

There came a time when the situation began to grow irksome. He had
reached the point where he began to understand how limited his life was.
Mathews and Howe, who drew more money, were able to live better than he.
They went out to midnight suppers, theatre parties, and expeditions to
the tenderloin section (not yet known by that name). They had time to
browse about the sections of the city which had peculiar charms for them
as Bohemians after dark--the levee, as a certain section of the Chicago
Riv