first, for the reason that there is a great harvest of wheat
somewhere in the world for every month in the year; and, second,
because the smart man who runs the corner has every other smart man
in the world against him. And, besides, it's wrong; the world's food
should not be at the mercy of the Chicago wheat pit."

As the party filed in through the wicket, the other young man who
had come with Landry Court managed to place himself next to Laura.
Meeting her eyes, he murmured:

"Ah, you did not wear them after all. My poor little flowers."

But she showed him a single American Beauty, pinned to the shoulder
of her gown beneath her cape.

"Yes, Mr. Corthell," she answered, "one. I tried to select the
prettiest, and I think I succeeded--don't you? It was hard to
choose."

"Since you have worn it, it is the prettiest," he answered.

He was a slightly built man of about twenty-eight or thirty; dark,
wearing a small, pointed beard, and a mustache that he brushed away
from his lips like a Frenchman. By profession he was an artist,
devoting himself more especially to the designing of stained
windows. In this, his talent was indisputable. But he was by no
means dependent upon his profession for a living, his parents--long
since dead--having left him to the enjoyment of a very considerable
fortune. He had a beautiful studio in the Fine Arts Building, where
he held receptions once every two months, or whenever he had a fine