Brockton sat down and picked up the newspaper again. Carelessly he asked: "From Elfie?" "No--just a friend." "Oh!" He sat down again, making himself comfortable in the armchair. Laura, in an agony of suspense, growing momentarily more nervous, watched him sideways, wondering how she could get rid of him, hoping he would soon go out. It would never do for John to come and find him there. With two men of such violent temper, already jealous to the breaking point, there was no telling what terrible tragedy might happen. Besides, she was anxious to be alone, so she might think out some plan of action. Something must be done at once. It was near eleven already. John would reach New York about noon; he would probably seek her out at once. She could reasonably expect him that very afternoon. A cold chill ran through her at the thought. What would she say to him? Get rid of Brockton she must at all costs. Timidly she asked: "Won't you be rather late getting down town, Will?" Without lifting his head, he answered carelessly: "Doesn't make any difference. I don't feel much like the office now. Thought I might order the car and take a spin through the park. The cold air will do me a lot of good. Like to go?" "No, not to-day," she replied hastily. A silence followed, and then she went on: "I thought your business was important; you said so last night." "No hurry," he answered. Suddenly turning and looking up at her, he asked searchingly: "Do you--er--want to get rid of me?" "Why should I?" she demanded, with pretended surprise. "Expecting some one?" he demanded. "No--not exactly," she replied hesitatingly. Turning her back on him, she went to the window, and stood there, gazing out into the street. Brockton watched her for a moment; then, with a covert smile, he said dryly: "If you don't mind, I'll stay here." Laura left the window, and coming back into the room, sat down at the piano. "Just as you please," she said, realizing that he was watching her, and trying her utmost to appear unconcerned. After playing a few bars, she stopped and said in a more conciliatory tone: "Will?" "Yes." "How long does it take to come from Buffalo?" "Depends on the train," he answered laconically. "About how long?" she persisted. "Between eight and ten hours, I think." Looking up, he asked: "Some one coming?" Ignoring his question, she asked: "Do you know anything about the trains?" "Not much. Why don't you find out for yourself? Have Annie get the timetable." "I will," she said. Leaving the piano, she went to the door and called: "Annie! Annie!" The negress appeared on the threshold. "Yassum!" "Go ask one of the hall-boys to bring me a New York Central timetable." "Yassum!" The maid crossed the room, and disappeared through another door. Laura, with forced nonchalance, seated herself on the arm of the sofa, humming a popular air. Brockton turned and faced her. "Then you _do_ expect some one, eh?" he exclaimed.