One More Whirl

During their week's stay in Chicago Mrs. Toomey had gone about mostly in a state which resembled the delightful languor of hasheesh, untroubled, irresponsible, save when something reminded her that after Chicago--the cataclysm. Yet she had not yielded easily to Toomey's importunities. It had required all his powers of persuasion to overcome her scruples, her ingrained thrift and natural prudence.

"We need the change; we've lived too long in a high altitude, and we're nervous wrecks, both of us," he had argued. "We should get in touch with things and the right kind of people. A trip like this is an investment--that's the way you want to look at it. If you want to win anything in this world you've got to take chances. It's the plungers, not the plodders, who make big winnings. I gotta hunch that I'm going to get in touch with somebody that'll take an interest in me."

Left to herself, Mrs. Toomey would have paid something on their most urgent debts and bought prudently, but she told herself that Jap was as likely to be right as she was, and the argument that he might meet some one who would be of benefit to him was convincing; so finally she had consented. The sense of unreality and wonder which Mrs. Toomey experienced when she saw her trunk going was surpassed only by the astonishment of the neighbors, who all but broke the glass in their various windows as they pressed against it to convince themselves that the sight was not an optical illusion.