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"Where is he?" asked Jay.

"Downstairs, sir," replied the bell-boy. "He came in this morning."

"With his family?"

"Three ladies are with him."

"I see," said Jay, while recollection of the incident at the office stole over him.

"What do I tell him, sir?" appealed the boy patiently.

Lida extended her slim, white hand for the card.

"How quaint! Who are they," she inquired.

"I know the man," said Jay, as casually as he could.

"Know the three ladies, too, Jay?"

"No."

"Nice of him to include them," Lida commented, brushing with her restless finger-tip the written inscription. "Is it a Chicago calling custom?" she inquired, turning over the card as though hopeful of a list of the ladies on the back.

"He's from Chicago," admitted Jay.

"Unquestionably," said Lida. "He makes me feel drawn to the place. Take me to your home soon, Jay."

He turned away, uncomfortable because of his memory of Phil Metten's warm greeting of him and the man's frank enthusiasm at a chance to better his family acquaintance through golf in the South. Jay remembered that he had praised Tryston and advised Metten to try it. So here he was, with his family.