Brockton chuckled. Holding out the paper so she could see, and watching her face closely, he went on: "I'm damned if he hasn't done what he said he'd do--see! He's been in Chicago, and is on his way to New York. He's struck it rich in Nevada, and is coming with a pot of money. Queer, isn't it? Did you know anything about it?" "No, no; nothing at all," she said, laying the paper aside and returning to her former place near the piano. Her face was drawn and white, and there was a hard, metallic note perceptible in her voice. "Lucky for him, eh?" said the broker. "Yes, yes; it's very nice." "Too bad he couldn't get this a little sooner, eh, Laura?" "Oh, I don't know," she said, with a forced laugh. "I don't think it's too bad. What makes you say that?" "Oh, nothing. I suppose he ought to be here to-day. Are you going to see him if he looks you up?" "No, no," she replied quickly; "I don't want to see him. You know that, don't you--that I don't want to see him? What makes you ask these questions?" Brockton shrugged his shoulders. "Just thought you might meet him, that's all. Don't get sore about it." "I'm not." She still held John's telegram crumpled in one hand. Brockton put down his paper, and regarded her curiously. She saw the expression on his face, and, reading its meaning, averted her head in order not to meet his eye. "What are you looking at me that way for?" she demanded hotly. "I wasn't conscious that I was looking at you in any particular way. Why?" "Oh, nothing. I guess I'm nervous, too." "I dare say you are." "Yes, I am." Brockton rose slowly from his chair. Crossing over to where she sat, he stood with folded arms, looking her squarely in the face. There was a hard look in his eyes, a determined expression around his mouth. He was in one of his obstinate, ungovernable tempers, and Laura knew at once by his manner that a critical moment was at hand. He began ominously: "You know I don't want to delve into a lot of past history at this time, but I've got to talk to you for a moment." She rose quickly, and, going to the other side of the room, pretended to be busy. Nervously, she said: "Why don't you do it some other time? I don't want to be talked to just now." He followed her, and, in the same, hard, determined tone, said firmly: "But I've got to do it, just the same." Trying to affect an attitude of resigned patience and resignation, Laura shrugged her shoulders and resumed her seat on the sofa. "Well, what is it?" she said. He looked at her in silence for a moment, as if not quite sure how to begin. Then, quietly, he said: "You've always been on the square with me, Laura. That's why I've liked you a lot better than the other women----" She stirred restlessly on her seat, and began to polish her finger-nails. Peevishly, she said: "Are you going into all that again this morning. I thought we understood each other."