"So you think we're making a wrong move, and there isn't a chance of success, eh?"
"No, I don't make any such gloomy prophecy. If you make Laura a good husband, and she makes you a good wife, and together you win out, I'll be mighty glad. As far as I am concerned, I shall absolutely forget every thought of Laura's friendship for me."
The girl looked grateful.
"I thought you'd be just that way," she said.
The broker rose and advancing, took both her hands. There was more than a suspicion of emotion in his voice as he said:
"Good-bye, girlie—be happy." Turning to the newspaper man, he said: "Madison, good luck." Shaking him cordially by the hand he added: "I think you've got the stuff in you to succeed, if your foot don't slip."
The newspaper man looked at him inquiringly. Curtly he demanded:
"What do you mean by my foot slipping, Mr. Brockton?"
The broker returned his gaze steadily.
"Do you want me to tell you?"