"Do I know him?"
She shook her head and smiled.
"I hardly think so. He has been to New York only once or twice in his life, and he's not the kind of man one usually finds in your set."
Brockton sat looking at her with an amused, indulgent, almost paternal expression on his face. In contrast with his big, bluff physical personality, his iron-gray hair and bull-dog expression Laura appeared more youthful and girlish than ever. A stranger catching a glimpse of the terrace might have taken them for father and daughter engaged in an intimate chat.
"How old is he?" he demanded.
"Thirty." Instantly she added: "You are forty-five."
"No," he corrected dryly; "forty-six."
Laura laughed. She saw that his good-humor had returned. At least there was no immediate danger of his doing anything desperate. The nervous tension was over for the time being. Rising and going near to him, she asked archly:
"Shall I tell you about him, eh?"
The broker looked serious.