up, a truly astounding number of debts. It has never been my way to do things by halves; I sold the Arch Street house, settled the debts, and moved the business and myself to New York for a fresh start.

The two years that followed I devoted exclusively to work and saw myself in a fair way, ultimately, to succeed in my ambition. I lived for business during these two years—I did nothing else—I thought of nothing else. The pleasures of life that I had given up I did not begrudge. They were only postponed. This was my big chance—my only chance for wealth and happiness through life—and I was unwilling to do even the smallest thing to jeopardize it.

Then I met Ruth Wilson, and six months later we were married. She was five years younger than I—a girl with beauty, of a family nearly the equal of the Durrants, and with all the social graces—in a word, a girl of whom any man might be proud.

I knew she would make me a good wife; it was a safe, satisfactory step for me to take. I was glad of this, for I was now as cautious of the things I did as formerly I had been careless.

We took an apartment on Riverside Drive, and were very happy. We had no children. I do not like children; I cannot stand their crying. And besides they are difficult and expensive to bring up properly—father’s arraignment of me in my younger days showed me that—and it was obvious that no girl of the grace and beauty of Ruth should be so handicapped. That she disagreed with me did not alter my opinion, for I realized that she was hardly more than a child and could not understand things as I did.

Our life during these first years of marriage was very satisfactory. I worked all day at the office, and two or three nights a week played in a game of cards which we held regularly at the club. I did not introduce these men to Ruth—they were not her kind—she would not have understood them. Indeed I should not have played in the game at all, except that I found the mental relaxation stimulating and helpful to me, for I was at this time working very hard. My luck, too, seemed to have changed permanently for the better. Whereas in Philadelphia I had frequently lost, I now won steadily—sums sufficiently large to justify in themselves, the amount of time I gave to the pursuit.

Once or twice a week Ruth and I would go to the theater—to musical shows generally, for I liked them best—and occasionally we would play cards with friends. This latter diversion interested me not at all. I was having enough of card playing outside, and the people to whom Ruth introduced me 

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