But Mrs. Cressler promptly supplied information.  Curtis Jadwin was a man about thirty-five, who had begun life without a sou in his pockets.  His people were farmers in Michigan, hardy, honest fellows, who ploughed and sowed for a living.  Curtis had only a rudimentary schooling, and had gone into business with a livery-stable keeper.  Someone in Chicago owed him money, and, in default of payment, had offered him a couple of lots of ground on Wabash Avenue.  That was how he happened to come to Chicago.  Naturally enough, as the city grew the Wabash Avenue property increased in value.  He sold the lots, and bought other real estate; sold that, and bought somewhere else, and so on till he owned some of the best business sites in the city, and was now one of the largest real-estate owners in Chicago.  But he no longer bought and sold.  His property had grown so large, that just the management of it alone took up most of his time.  As a rule, he deplored speculation.  He had no fixed principles about it, and occasionally he hazarded small operations.

It was after this that Laura’s first aversion to the great grey city fast disappeared, and she saw it in a kindlier aspect.

Soon it was impossible to deny that Curtis Jadwin—­“J” as he was called in business—­was in love with her.  The business man, accustomed to deal with situations with unswerving directness, was not in the least afraid of Laura.  He was aggressive, assertive, and his addresses had all the persistence and vehemence of veritable attack.  He contrived to meet her everywhere, and even had the Cresslers and Laura over to his mission Sunday-school for the Easter festival, an occasion of which Laura carried away a confused recollection of enormous canvas mottoes, sheaves of lilies, imitation bells of tinfoil, revival hymns vociferated from seven hundred distended mouths, and through it all the smell of poverty, the odour of uncleanliness, that mingled strangely with the perfume of the lilies.

Somehow Laura found that with Jadwin all the serious, all the sincere, earnest side of her character was apt to come to the front.

Yet for a long time Laura could not make up her mind that she loved him, but “J” refused to be dismissed.

“I told him I did not love him.  Only last week I told him so,” Laura explained to Mrs. Cressler.

“Well, then, why did you promise to marry him?”

“My goodness!  You don’t realise what it’s been.  Do you suppose you can say ‘no’ to that man?”

“Of course not—­of course not!” declared Mrs. Cressler joyfully.  “That’s ‘J’ all over.  I might have known he’d have you if he set out to do it.”

They were married on the last day of June of that summer in the Episcopalian church.  Immediately after the wedding the couple took the train for Geneva Lake, where Jadwin had built a house for his bride.

II.—­A Corner in Wheat

The months passed.  Soon three years had gone by since the ceremony in St. James’s Church, and all that time the price of wheat had been steadily going down.  Heavy crops the world over had helped the decline.