," said Brockway; but the manner in
which he attacked the cold chicken slew the pessimism in the remark.

"Do you? I could almost say Amen to that," she rejoined, soberly.

"You? I should have thought you would be the last person in the world to
want to stop Time's train."

She laughed softly. "That is very human, isn't it? I was thinking
precisely the same thing of you. Tell me why you would like to abolish
the to-morrows--or is it only the very next one that ever will be that
you want to escape?"

"It's all of them, I think: but you mustn't ask me to tell you why."

"Why mustn't I?"

"Because I can't do it and keep my promise to tell you the truth."

"That is frank, at least," she retorted. "I hope you are not a
conscience-stricken train-robber, or a murderer, or anything of that
kind."

"Hardly," Brockway replied, helping himself to another sandwich; "but
you would be quite horrified if I should tell you what I have really
done."

"Do you think so? You might try me and see," she said, half pleading and
half jesting.

Brockway thought about it for a moment.

"I'll do it--on one condition."

"You ought to be ashamed to propose conditions to me. What is it?"

"That you will tell me quite as truthfully why you agreed with me about
the abolition of the to-morrows."

It was Gertrude's turn to consider, but she ended by accepting the
proviso.

"After you," she said, with a constrained little laugh. "But who would
ever think of exchanging confidences at this altitude over a stolen
luncheon!"

"Not many, perhaps; but it's quite in keeping with our compact; we were
not to do ordinary things, you know. And I'm sure this confession I am
going to make is unpremeditated."

"Is it so very dreadful?"

"It is, I assure you, though I can make it in five words. I am
hopelessly in love--don't laugh, please; there isn't the slightest
element of levity in it for me."

Nevertheless, she did laugh, albeit there was pain at the catching of
her breath.

"Forgive me," she said, quickly. "I don't mean to be silly if I can help
it. Tell me about it, and why it is hopeless."

"It's the old story of Jack and his master," Brockway continued. "I have
had the audacity to fall in love with the daughter of one of my
betters."

"One of your betters? I'm afraid I can't quite understand that. Don't we
live in a golden age when Jack is as good as his master, if he choose to
make himself so?"

"By no manner of means," assert