"Her name is Mrs. Sanderson. I met her in Washington last winter. Her uncle was in the State Department and she was visiting him. She had a friend with her who is also from Chicago, I think, and they both of them were better read and had less affectation than any women I have met for a year, at least."
"That sounds encouraging," replied Duncan. "I think I have heard Sibyl Wright talk about that Mrs. Sanderson. If there is any sport in Chicago I am bound to have it. My old college chum, Harold Wainwright, has been living out there for three years and he must know the town by this time."
"I say, Duncan, won't you have some more liquor? You need it to fortify your nerves for that voyage of discovery."
"I think you are right, Roland," Duncan replied. "By Jove, though, I don't believe I have time; I have got a date before dinner."
"Oh, yes you have; just one more for luck. Here, waiter, take the orders."
The glasses were soon removed and freshly filled ones took their place. "When are you off?" said Waterman.
"To-morrow on the 'Limited'" was the reply.
"Then let's drink to the great Duncan and his success among the pork-packers," said Howard-Jones.
The four men quickly drained their glasses and Duncan took a hurried leave of his friends. "Good-by, Duncan, good-by," were the exchanged partings. Duncan hurried through the hall, hailed a cab at the door, gave an uptown address to the driver, jumped into the cab, and was off.