"Yes, yes; it's very nice."
"Too bad he couldn't get this a little sooner, eh, Laura?"
"Oh, I don't know," she said, with a forced laugh. "I don't think it's too bad. What makes you say that?"
"Oh, nothing. I suppose he ought to be here to-day. Are you going to see him if he looks you up?"
"No, no," she replied quickly; "I don't want to see him. You know that, don't you—that I don't want to see him? What makes you ask these questions?"
Brockton shrugged his shoulders.
"Just thought you might meet him, that's all. Don't get sore about it."
"I'm not."
She still held John's telegram crumpled in one hand. Brockton put down his paper, and regarded her curiously. She saw the expression on his face, and, reading its meaning, averted her head in order not to meet his eye.
"What are you looking at me that way for?" she demanded hotly.