The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1910-12-29
CHAPTER |.
The Threshold Of Adventure.

The Threshold Of Adventure.
The roar of State street filed the
ears of Robert Orme not unpleasantly.
He liked Chicago, felt towards the
western city something more than the
tolerant, patronizing interest which
so often characteriZes the eastern
man. To him 1t was the hub of gen.
uine Americanism-young, aggressive,
perhaps a bit too cocksure, but ever
bounding along with eyes toward the
future Here was the city of great
beginnings, the city of experiment.
experiment with life; hence It's incom-
pleteness-an incompleteness not dis
similar to that of life itself. Chi
cago lived; it was the pulse of the
great middle west.
Orme watched the procession with
clear eyes. He had been strolling
southwark from the Masonic Temple,
into the shopping district. The
clangor, the smoke and dust, the hur-
rying crowds, all worked into his
mood. The expectation of adventure
was far from Elm. Nor was he a man
who sought impressions for amuse-
ment; whatever came to him he weigh
ed, and accepted or rejected according
as 1t was valueless or useful. Whole
some he was; any one might infer
that from his face. Doubtless, his
fault lay in his overemphasis on the
purely practical; but that, after all,
was a lawyers fault, and 1t was
counterbalanced by a sweet kindliness
toward all the world-a loveableness
which made for him friend of every
chance acquaintance.
1t was well along in the afternoon
and shoppers were hurrying home
ward. Orme noted the fresh beauty
Of the women and girls-Chicago has
reason to be proud of her daughters
and his heart beat little faster.
Not that he was a man to be caught
by every pretty stranger; but scarce
ly recognized by himself, there was a
hidden spring of romance in his prac-
teal nature. Heart-free, he never met
q woman without wondering whether
She was the one. He had never found
her; he did not know that he was
looking for her; yet always there was
the unconscious question
A distant whistle, the changing of
gongs, the rapid beat of galloping
hoofs-fre engines were racing down
the street. Cars stopped, vehicles of
all kinds crowded in toward the curbs.
Orme paused and watched the fire
horses go laundering by, their smo-
king cnariots swaying behind them
and dropping long trails of sparks.
Small boys were running, men and
women were stopping to gaze after
the passing engines, but Orme's at
tention was taken by something that
was happening near by, and as the
gongs and the hoof-beats grew fainter
he looked with interest to the street
beside him.
He had got as far as the corner of
Madison street. The scramble to get
out of the way of the engines had
here resulted in a traffic jam. Two
policemen we're moving about, shout
ing orders for the disentanglement of
the street cars and vehicles which
seemed to be inextricably wedged to
gether.
A burly Irish teamster was below,
ing at his horse. The hind wheel of
a smart barouche was caught in the
fore wheel of a delivery wagon, and
the driver of the delivery wagon was
expressing his opinion of the situation
in terms which seemed to embarrass
the elderly gentleman who sat in the
barouche. Orme's eye Travelled
through the outer edge of the dis
turbance, and sought its center.
There in the midst of the tangle
was big black touring car. Its one
occupant was a girl-and such a girl!
Her faWn-colored cloak was thrown
open; her face was unveiled. Orme
was thrilled when he caught the
glory Of her face-the clear skin
Drowned by outdoor living; the de
mure but regular features; the eyes
that seemed to transmute and reflect
softly all impressions from without