seat and tore off the wrappers of the illustrated London weeklies just delivered. One of them contained an interesting article on the series of international polo matches projected and the possibility of Latham's this year playing by invitation with the American team in England. Latham's life was indeed the ideal one.
The mild April breeze was blowing in the open window and the clear blue sky and warm sunshine reminded one that winter was over. The club was one of those that stand on the lake front of Chicago, and from the windows of the floor where Latham had his rooms one sees only the blue lake to the east. A few white sails of small sporting craft already dotted the water beyond the great, grimy freighters streaming in and out from the harbour.
A flock of wild geese, bound back to the north after their winter flight to the shores of the gulf far below, sped over the lake. The two sportsmen in the club window looked after them, then descended to the street. Latham's roadster had been brought round to the door. They jumped in and drove north along the lake till they came to that part of the Lake
