"I'm not lost, but I'm going to be if you and John don't help me out. Will you do it?"
"Sight unseen." The little lady was eying her shoes wistfully and hoping that Brockway would be brief.
"I thought I could count on you. What is your programme for to-day?"
"For John, business, I suppose; for myself, a carriage, a handy card-case, and any number of 'how do you dos' and 'good-byes.' Why?"
"I want you both to give me the day, out and out. Listen, and don't say no till you've heard me through."
"Go on, but don't let it lap over into Denver; we're 'most there."
Brockway stated his case briefly. "It's probably the last chance I'll ever have to see her," he concluded.
"Why should you want to see her when there is nothing to be done, as you say?"
"I don't know that—but I do, and you must help me. Will you?"
"Help you carry on a brazen flirtation with that poor, innocent girl? Never! But if John says he'll go, I suppose I can't help myself"—resignedly.