"Yes," she replied firmly, "everything is absolutely declared off." Brockton shrugged his shoulders. With an inward chuckle he said ironically: "Can't even be friends any more, eh?" Madison, who had listened without interfering, now rose and stepped forward. Fixing the broker with a cold stare, he said: "You could hardly expect Miss Murdock to be friendly with you--under the circumstances." Assisting Laura to put a scarf across her shoulders, he added: "You could hardly expect me to sanction any such friendship." Brockton gave a careless nod. Patronizingly he said: "I think I understand your position, young man, and I agree with you perfectly, that is--if your plans turn out successful." "Thank you," said Madison stiffly. Going up to the broker, Laura held out her hand. With a smile she said: "Then everything is settled, just the way it ought to be--frankly and above board?" Brockton took her hand, and held it in his for a minute. With a visible effort to conceal his feelings, he said: "Why, I guess so. If I was perfectly confident that this new arrangement was going to result happily for you both, I think it would be great, only I'm somewhat doubtful, for when people become serious and then fail, I know how hard these things hit, having been hit once myself." Madison looked at him as if trying to gauge his full meaning. Then quietly he said: "So you think we're making a wrong move, and there isn't a chance of success, eh?" "No, I don't make any such gloomy prophecy. If you make Laura a good husband, and she makes you a good wife, and together you win out, I'll be mighty glad. As far as I am concerned, I shall absolutely forget every thought of Laura's friendship for me." The girl looked grateful. "I thought you'd be just that way," she said. The broker rose and advancing, took both her hands. There was more than a suspicion of emotion in his voice as he said: "Good-bye, girlie--be happy." Turning to the newspaper man, he said: "Madison, good luck." Shaking him cordially by the hand he added: "I think you've got the stuff in you to succeed, if your foot don't slip." The newspaper man looked at him inquiringly. Curtly he demanded: "What do you mean by my foot slipping, Mr. Brockton?" The broker returned his gaze steadily. "Do you want me to tell you?" "I sure do." Brockton turned to Laura, who stood listening, rather uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking. "Laura," he said quietly, "run into the house and see if Mrs. Williams has won another quarter. Madison and I are going to smoke a cigar and have a friendly chat. When we get through, I think we'll both feel better." She looked at him anxiously. Fearfully she asked: "You are sure that everything will be all right?" "Sure," he said smilingly. She looked at Madison, as if for reassurance. He nodded and she went towards the house. When she had disappeared, Brockton held out a handsomely engraved gold cigar case.