THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
mind. He never saw in any of his dreams, as William Grogan saw in his, a home, a garden, a wife, and a couple of kids.
As he smoked his pipe, his eyes half closed, he smiled from time to time. By and by he laughed outright and summoned his valet.
"Cable blanks," he said. He wrote: "Cook, Rangoon. Forward all mail Bombay office at once." He signed this cable—"William Grogan."
Then he went to bed.
