to do some 'human interest sketches,' as they call
'em," Francisco explained as he introduced his cousin. "Our editor
believes in a 'literary touch' for the paper. Something rather new."

Jean Norwall held out her hand. She was an attractive, bright-eyed girl
in her early twenties, with a searching, friendly look, as though life
were full of surprises which she was eager to probe. "So you are
Robert," she remarked. "Francisco's talked a lot about you."

"That was good of him," the young man answered. "He's talked a deal of
you as well, Miss Norwall."

"Oh, indeed!"' She reddened slightly. "Well, we must be getting on."

Robert raised his hat and watched them disappear around the corner.
There was a vaguely lonesome feeling somewhere in the region of his
heart. He went on past the entrance of the San Francisco Stock Exchange
and almost collided with a bent-over, shrewd-faced man, whose eagle-beak
and penetrating eyes were a familiar sight along California street.

He was E.J. (better known as "Lucky") Baldwin, who had started the
Pacific Stock Exchange.

Baldwin had a great ranch in the South, where he bred blooded horses.
He owned the Baldwin theater and the Baldwin Hotel, which rivaled the
Palace. Women, racing and stocks were his hobbies. Benito had done some
legal work for Baldwin and Robert knew him casually. Rather to his
surprise Baldwin stopped, laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Hello, lad," he greeted; "want a tip on the stock market?"

Tips from "Lucky" were worth their weight in gold. Robert was
astonished. "Why--yes, thank you, sir," he stammered.

"Well, don't play it ... that's the best tip in the world." The operator
walked off chuckling.

* * * * *

Robert continued his walk along Montgomery street to Market, where he
turned westward. It was Saturday and his father's office, where he was
now studying law, had been closed since noon. It had become a
custom--almost an unwritten law--to promenade San Francisco's lordly
thoroughfare on the last afternoon of the week, especially the northern
side. For Market street was now a social barrier. South of it were
smaller, meaner shops, saloons, beer-swilling "cafe chantants,"
workmen's eating houses and the like, with, of course, the notable
exceptions of the Grand and Palace Hotels.

On the northern side were the gay haberdasheries, millinery stores,
cafes and various business marts, where fashionable San Francis