d. Laura was still sitting where he had left
her. With her head resting on one hand in a meditative manner, she was
so intently watching the road that she did not look up as he
approached. He watched her for a moment without speaking. Then slowly
removing his cigar from his mouth, he asked laconically:

"Blue?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"A little preoccupied?"

"Perhaps."

Still she did not turn her head, yet her heart was beating fast. This
was her opportunity. He looked in the same direction she was looking.

"What's up that way?" he demanded.

"Which way?"

"The way you are looking."

"That's the road from Manitou Springs. They call it the trail out
here."

Brockton nodded.

"I know that. I've done a lot of business west of the Missouri."

The girl gave a half-yawn of indifference.

"I didn't know it," she said.

"Oh, yes," he went on; "south of here, in the San Juan country. Spent a
couple of years there once."

"That's interesting," replied Laura, with another yawn, and still not
turning her head.

With a chuckle of self-satisfaction, he went on:

"It was then that I made some money there. It's always interesting when
you make money. Still----"

"Still what?" she asked absent-mindedly.

He looked at her, as if surprised at her manner. Somewhat impatiently
he said:

"I can't make out why you have your eyes glued on that road. Some one
coming?"

"Yes."

"One of Mrs. Williams' friends, eh?"

Crossing to the other side of the terrace, he seated himself in one of
the comfortable lounging chairs.

"Yes," answered the girl.

"Yours, too?" he asked dryly.

"Yes."

"Man?"

"Yes, a _real_ man."

There was no mistaking the significance of these last words, which she
uttered with strong emphasis, as if they came right from the heart.

The broker sat up with a start. At first he was too surprised to speak,
but quickly he regained his composure, and gave vent to a long, low
whistle, which was inaudible to his companion. Carelessly throwing his
cigar over the balustrade, he rose from his seat, and stood leaning on
another chair a short distance away. Laura, meantime, had not moved,
except to place her left hand on a cushion and lean her head wearily
against it. She still sat motionless, her gaze steadfastly fixed on the
road in the pass. Brockton broke the rather awkward silence.

"A _real_ man?" he echoed. "By that you mean----"

"Just that," she s