Marsh waited outside the music school on Michigan Avenue for Jane Atwood. Presently she appeared, and Marsh was conscious of a quickened beating of the heart as he watched the slender, graceful figure approach. He noted the becoming flush, which spread over her features as she recognized him, and he was certain that no woman ever before had such sparkling eyes and so sweet a smile.
"This is a pleasant surprise," she greeted him.
"I knew you had a lesson today," explained Marsh, "and the weather was so fine that I thought you might enjoy a walk before you went home."
"I should love it!" she exclaimed. "I was just dreading the thought of going straight home to that plain little room in the hotel. Hotel rooms never do seem homelike, do they?"
"Most of my life has been spent in hotels," returned Marsh, as they strolled toward the curb. "My parents died before I was twenty, and since then I have led a roving life." He signaled a passing taxi, and directed the chauffeur to take them to Lincoln Park.
Marsh glanced down Oak Street as the car flashed by. The mysterious shadows that hung over the street at night, and the recent tragic incident which had taken place there, seemed almost like a dream to Marsh, as he saw the street stretch peacefully toward the west in the light of the late afternoon sun. Marsh's attention was quickly diverted, however, for at this point the tall buildings, the smoky streets, and the crowds were left behind. At one side began the long line of palatial residences that has brought to this section of Chicago the sobriquet of "The Gold Coast." On the other side lay a strip of park, and beyond that stretched the rolling waters of Lake Michigan, as far as the eye could see.
"This is what I like about Chicago," exclaimed Marsh. "After a day in the hurry and bustle and grind of the business district, you are swept in a few minutes into a region of trees, grass and spreading waters. At one stroke you seem to leave the seething city behind and enter into the wide spaces of the earth."
"You speak like a poet," declared the girl, "rather than a plain business man."
"Perhaps," returned Marsh, in a low voice, "it is because of something new that has come into my life."
The girl's eyes looked into his for a moment, and seemed to read something there, for she turned with heightened color to look out over the lake.