he had given up the idea of finishing his studies in the High School
in Grand Rapids, on the chance of going into business with a livery
stable keeper. Then in time he had bought out the business and had
run it for himself. Some one in Chicago owed him money, and in
default of payment had offered him a couple of lots on Wabash
Avenue. That was how he happened to come to Chicago. Naturally
enough as the city grew the Wabash Avenue property--it was near
Monroe Street--increased in value. He sold the lots and bought other
real estate, sold that and bought somewhere else, and so on, till he
owned some of the best business sites in the city. Just his ground
rent alone brought him, heaven knew how many thousands a year. He
was one of the largest real estate owners in Chicago. But he no
longer bought and sold. His property had grown so large that just
the management of it alone took up most of his time. He had an
office in the Rookery, and perhaps being so close to the Board of
Trade Building, had given him a taste for trying a little deal in
wheat now and then. As a rule, he deplored speculation. He had no
fixed principles about it, like Charlie. Only he was conservative;
occasionally he hazarded small operations. Somehow he had never
married. There had been affairs. Oh, yes, one or two, of course.
Nothing very serious, He just didn't seem to have met the right
girl, that was all. He lived on Michigan Avenue, near the corner of
Twenty-first Street, in one of those discouraging eternal yellow
limestone houses with a basement dining-room. His aunt kept house
for him, and his nieces and nephews overran the place. There was
always a raft of them there, either coming or going; and the way
they exploited him! He supported them all; heaven knew how many
there were; such drabs and gawks, all elbows and knees, who soaked
themselves with cologne and made companions of the servants. They
and the second girls were always squabbling about their things that