Bradley lived in Aldine Square. By the light of the first gas lamp he looked at his watch and found that it wanted but three minutes to midnight. At the corner of the street he waited for a cross-town car, but as none was within sight, he walked on, thinking little of the distance home, which was not great, for his mind was on Agnes. He had not decided that she would make a good wife, but he knew that he would ask her to marry him. He believed that his happiness depended upon her decision. This is a conclusion reached by nearly every man. His salary was not large, for his church was poor, but it was growing rich in numbers and that meant a popularity insuring larger pay. But why should he consider his income? They could live happily in Aldine Square. It was a charming place, and so romantic that one would scarcely expect to find it in Chicago. It might have been a part of Paris. It was come upon suddenly, its gate, with two great posts of stone, opening into the street. There was a plastered wall, and it looked as if it had been built for ages. Through the gate, which was always left open, the view was attractive—there were trees, shrubbery, flowers, a pool, a fountain and a carriage drive. It would charm Agnes. The street was deserted, with the exception of a straggler here and there, turned out of a saloon. "Vice shutting its red eye," he mused, as one place closed its door. Looking ahead he saw a man leaning against a lamp post. As Bradley came up the man, stepping out, said: "Mister, will you please tell me what time it is?"