II

SOME RAIN AND ITS CONSEQUENCES





New York had never been so nasty and cold and disagreeable. For
three weeks it had rained--a steady, chilling drizzle. Quentin stood
it as long as he could, but the weather is a large factor in the
life of a gentleman of leisure. He couldn't play Squash the entire
time, and Bridge he always maintained was more of a profession than
a pastime. So it was that one morning, as he looked out at the
sheets of water blowing across the city, his mind was made up.

"We'll get out of this, Turk. I've had enough of it."

"Where do we go, sir?" calmly asked the servant.

"Heaven knows! But be ready to start tomorrow. We'll go somewhere
and dodge this blessed downpour. Call me a cab."

As he drove to the club, he mentally tossed coppers as to his