win their way into the front rank of city society. An agreeable position in Evanston satisfied many, of course; he thought of Marjorie's parents as thus satisfied; but he would not let it satisfy Marjorie and himself.
He hunched impatiently forward in his seat as Gregg turned at last into the avenue which led to the Hales'; Gregg swung the car between wide gate posts and, crunching through the newly frozen crust over a private driveway, he came to a stop at a porte-cochère beside a big, brightly lighted, warm-windowed house where a manservant opened the door at the top of a short row of steps. Billy pulled back the catch of the car door before he recollected himself and sat back.
"Get out, Bill," Gregg bade.
"You're running back to the garage?"
"No; just up on the lawn there. I'll not freeze up to-night. Get out."
Billy complied and ran up the steps; Gregg drove on a few yards, where he killed his engine and stepped down, stamping his feet while he gazed up at the big, white, wide-verandahed home of the Hales, always friendly looking and welcoming. Lights shone in warm, inviting colors, and a dancing glow on some of the window-panes told that wood fires were blazing in the drawing-room and in the hall. Gentle currents of the night air wafted down from the chimney the soft odor of wood smoke, and it brought to Gregg memories of an old, rambling, beloved home in Michigan; he thought of his father coming in, tired and mud-spattered from a long drive over winter roads, but smiling, as Gregg always remembered him, when Gregg or Gregg's mother met him at the door. Gregg recollected how he used to go for his father's slippers while
