"Mr. Madison is coming up the path."
"That's good," came the reply. "He's just in time for dinner."
"Won't you come out and see him?"
"No, my child. I'm up to my neck in bridge. I'm six dollars and twenty cents out now, and up against an awful streak of luck."
"Shall I invite him to dinner?"
"Yes, do, dear; and tell him to cross his fingers when he thinks of me."
The girl ran back to Brockton, who was still standing at the edge of the terrace, watching the rider's progress. Slipping her hand involuntarily through the broker's arm and looking eagerly with him over the balustrade, she asked with girlish enthusiasm:
"Do you like him?"
"I don't know him," replied Brockton with an amused smile.
"Well, do you think you'll like him?" she persisted.