Now, as it happened, just two blocks down Michigan Avenue from where our student-hereafter we shall call him Glenn-crossed to enter the Art Institute, there was a shop. It really should be called An Elegant Little Shop, having discreetly lettered in gold across the lower right hand corner of its window the name:

S. U. ZUKI JADE

In this shop there was a merchant. He, too, was handsome-from his Britishtailored shoulders to his Italian-slippered toes. His very blond good looks were de bon aire, for he had just turned twenty-nine.

As he bent to return a pair of white jade cuff-links to their place in the show case he said to himself "Charles, you must have been out of your mind to have gone to the Art Institute for lunch."

You see, it had been a week to the day since Jeremy had stormed, bag and baggage, out of the apartment. He and Jeremy always lunched together in the Art Institute patio, and he had gone there again today, hoping he'd see Jeremy. He didn't know just what he'd do when he did see Jeremy: he might just cut him dead, or, he might forgive all and invite Jeremy to join him at his table. As it happened, he didn't see Jeremy; he didn't see anyone he knew; he was forced to sit alone, which he hated; and the waitress brought him the wrong order. "For heaven's sake, miss, didn't you hear me? I ordered chicken salad, not this salmon aspic!"

His lunch had been ruined and he returned to the shop, held tight by the mood that had been poking nebulous fingers at him since morning. "Tonight I'll go to the Baths and get a cure!"

Outside the shop window the sun danced up and down Michigan Avenue and peeping over the balustrade, smiled down into McClintock Court at the Art Institute.

Glenn sat under a yellow umbrella which shaded his table facing the pool and alternately listened to the splash of water against the four naked mermen in the centre, and its antiphon, the jangle from the pantry behind the lattices at the far end of the court.

"Man-oh-man! Didya evah see so many out-o'-townuhs! And them li'l gals gigglin' at the water a-drippin' off the dingfoddie on that stachoo out there! Hoo-eee!"

"I got one mo' sa'mmon, anybody wants it!" And in the pantry, old Harry scooped the salmon aspic onto a fresh bed of lettuce and said "There you go li'l feller, nice an' fresh lookin'. You was the fust one out this noon, and now you's the last. Mebbe you'll stay this time!"

The waitress fussed with the place mat and the silver, and then placed Glenn's order before him.

“Well,” he thought "enjoy every bite... it's expensive. And get your eyes full-you paid for that, too." So he picked up his fork and began to eat his salmon, contemplating naked Orpheus.

When he finished, both his soul and his stomach were satisfied. He paid his cheque and left the change from the last of the five half-dollars as a tip. As he walked through the corridors, past the statuary, and on through the doors he felt a little giddy. Too much rum on the dessert. As he descended the steps in front of the Institute, the heat belched out of the concrete canyon across the Avenue.

"Lord, I'd almost forgotten how hot it is! Well, I'll go back to the "Y," take

one