"Yes, I'll get her," said Josh, "and for a reason that never
occurs to you shallow people. I get what I want because what I
want wants me--for the same reason that the magnet gets the
steel."
Arkwright looked admiringly at his friend's strong, aggressive
face.
"You're a queer one, Josh," said he. "Nothing ordinary about you."
"I should hope not!" exclaimed Craig. "Now for the plunge."
CHAPTER II
IN THE BEST SOCIETY
Grant's electric had swung in at the end of the long line of
carriages of all kinds, from coach of ambassador and costly
limousine of multi-millionaire to humble herdic wherein poor,
official grandee's wife and daughter were feeling almost as common
as if they had come in a street car or afoot. Josh Craig, leaning
from the open window, could see the grand entrance under the wide
and lofty porte-cochere--the women, swathed in silk and fur,
descending from the carriages and entering the wide-flung doors of
the vestibule; liveries, flowers, lights, sounds of stringed
instruments, intoxicating glimpses of magnificence at windows,
high and low. And now the electric was at the door. He and
Arkwright sprang out, hastened up the broad steps.
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