"You've been on the square with me this summer, haven't you?" She instantly noted the change in his tone. Her face grew a shade paler, but she looked up at him without flinching. Quickly she said: "What do you mean by 'on the square'?" "Don't evade," he exclaimed, slightly raising his voice. "There's only one meaning when I say that--and you know it. I'm pretty liberal, Laura, but you understand where I draw the line----" Sternly and more slowly he added: "You've not jumped that, have you?" The girl tossed her head haughtily. There are some questions no one may ask or answer. She looked him straight in the face. He could read nothing there. Quietly she said: "This has been such a wonderful summer, such a wonderfully different summer." It was her turn to be ironical when she added: "Can you understand what I mean by that, when I say 'a wonderfully different summer'?" The broker smiled in spite of himself. "So--he's thirty and 'broke,' and you're twenty-five and pretty. He evidently, being a newspaper man, has that peculiar gift of gab that we call romantic expression. So I guess I'm not blind. You both think you've fallen in love. That it?" "Yes," replied the girl gravely. "I think that's about it, only I don't agree with the 'gift of gab' and the 'romantic' end of it. He's a man and I'm a woman, and we've both had our adventures. His are more respectable than mine, that's all." Musingly, as if to herself, she added: "I don't think, Will, that there can be much of that element which some folk describe as hallucination. We know what we're about." Picking up from the table a box of candies which the broker had brought her, she selected one of the sugared delicacies and popped it in her mouth. Brockton walked up and down with long, nervous strides. The girl's calmness disconcerted him. With all his experience, he was at a loss how to handle her. Perhaps he might try a final shot. "Then the Riverside Drive proposition and Burgess's show offer are off, eh?" he said sharply. Hesitatingly she answered: "I don't say that." "And if you go back on the Overland Limited day after to-morrow," he went on bitterly, "you'd just as soon I'd go to-morrow or wait until the day after you leave!" "I didn't say that, either," she replied, replacing the candy box on the table. He stopped short. "What's the game?" he demanded impatiently. "I can't tell you now." "Waiting for him to come?" "Exactly." "Think he's serious, eh?" "I know he is." "Marriage?" "Possibly." He laughed ironically. "You've tried that once," he said, "and taken the wrong end. Are you going to play the same game again?" "Yes--but with a different card," she answered. "What's his name?" "Madison--John Madison." Picking up a magazine, she slowly turned the pages. "And his job?" "I told you--a reporter." The broker gave a low and expressive whistle. Sarcastically he inquired: "What are you going to live on--extra editions?"