Two hours after leaving Granthope’s studio, Mr. Gay P. Summer had "dated" Fancy Gray. Mr. Summer was a "Native Son of the Golden West"; he had, indeed, risen to the honorable station of Vice President of the Fort Point Parlor of that ecstatic organization. He was, in his modest way, a leader of men, and aspired to a corresponding mastery over women. In all matters pertaining to the pursuit and conquest of the fair sex, Mr. Summer was prompt, ingenious and determined. Before two weeks were over he was able to boast, to his room-mate, of Fancy’s subjection. Fancy herself might equally well have boasted of his. At the end of this time he was, at least, in possession of her photograph, six notes written in a backward, slanting penmanship, twelve words to the damask page, with the date spelled out, a lock of hair (though this was arrant rape), and one gray suede, left-hand glove. These he displayed, as trophies of the chase, upon the bureau of his bedroom and defended them, forbye, from the asteistic comments of his room-mate, an unwilling and unconfessed admirer of Gay P. Summer’s power to charm and subdue. In those two weeks much had been done that it is not possible to do elsewhere than in the favored city by the Golden Gate. A Sunday excursion to the beach was the fruit of his first telephonic conversation. There are beaches in other places, indeed, but there is no other Carville-by-the-Sea. This capricious suburb, founded upon the shifting sands of "The Great Highway," as San Francisco’s ocean boulevard is named, is a little, freakish hamlet, whose dwellings—one could not seriously call them houses—are built, for the most part, of old street-cars. The architecture is of a new order, frivolously inconsequent. According to the owner’s fancy, the cars are placed side by side or one atop the other, arranged every way, in fact, except actually standing on end. From single cars, more or less adapted for temporary occupancy, to whimsical residences, in which the car appears only in rudimentary fragments, a suppressed motif suggested by rows of windows or by sliding doors, the owners’ taste and originality have had wanton range. Balconies jut from roofs, piazzas inclose sides and fronts, cars are welded together, dovetailed, mortised, added as ells at right angles or used terminally as kitchens to otherwise normal habitations.