In one of the handsomest houses on Ashland avenue lived Grace Dearborn, the young lady whose acquaintance Paul had made on the train. Perhaps it would be more proper to say that her aunt, Mrs. Sheldon, lived here, and Grace was a member of her family. Mr. Sheldon was dead, and his widow carried on her husband\'s business—a large retail drygoods store—through the help of the former chief clerk, now promoted to general manager, under whose wise and faithful superintendence the store flourished, and yielded to the widow an ample yearly income.