Brockton leaned over the balustrade trying, through the increasing dusk, to catch a glimpse of the girl's slender form, as in her light summer gown she flitted among the trees. The autumn afternoon was now far advanced. The shadows of approaching night were already falling across the Pass. The golden glow that tinged the distant snow-clad peaks grew deeper in color. The lights were rapidly fading to beautiful opalescent hues. It was only by the exercise of the greatest self-control that the broker had retained his composure. What the girl had just told him was a staggering and unexpected blow. Underneath the man's stolid, business-like manner, there was a big heart. He was selfish and comfort-loving, like most men of his class and opportunities, but he was far from being as callous and blase as he pretended. He had grown to be very fond of Laura. He knew that up to this time and during her whole career he was the first man who had had any real influence over her. Since the day when they first became pals, he had always dominated, and while his moral teaching left much to be desired, he had always endeavored to keep her semi-respectable in the bohemian, unconventional kind of life she had elected to lead. His coming all the way from New York to Denver to accompany her home--for the business at Kansas City was, of course, only a pleasant fiction--was proof of his keen interest in the girl. And what a disappointment awaited him! He had come after her, only to find that she had drifted away from him. What perhaps made matters worse, he could not in the least object to the manner of her going. She had been absolutely fair and square in her agreement with him. If this new love affair really meant new life to her, respectability, happiness, he would be worse than a cad to stand in her way. Nor could he, logically, bear any malice towards the man who was taking her from him.