the west side of the Drive and facing the lake, stand a row of stone and brick and terra-cotta mansions, each of obvious expense and, patently, so costly to own and inhabit that this stretch of the Lake Michigan shore is familiarly referred to as "the Gold Coast." These huge and pretentious homes, known by the names of many of the most wealthy and conspicuous families of the city, always represented to Billy Whittaker a certain end of ambition, spurring his determination to work faithfully so that on some day, perhaps fifteen or twenty years ahead, he might be able to purchase one of these houses and move his wife and family to the Drive. For long before he fell in love, Billy formed the habit of thinking of himself with a wife and children, whenever he imagined himself in middle age. Now he thought of bringing Marjorie, and her children and his, to live on this stretch of the lake front.
There was a large and particularly pleasant-looking house a little above the Bordens' (which was one of the few homes which Billy knew even by name) which he hoped would be the one on the market when he should be ready to buy; when he passed it, he dared, for a few bold heart-thumps, to picture himself at the door with Marjorie; then he came down to earth and earnestly devoted himself to his serious preparations to interest Marjorie that evening and to say the right thing to her father, to whom he found it rather difficult to talk. Billy never had any trouble with Mrs. Hale, who had strongly favored him from the first.
In so far as Gregg ever made mental preparations, he took thought for Marjorie's mother; for Mr. Hale and he always got on without effort. To-night, of course, was likely to prove a special case; but Gregg
