She shook her head. “I think there is nothing like it anywhere else in the wide world.”
Bromley took the lap-robe from the buggy and spread it under one of the trees, and for a little time they sat quietly in the face of the magnificent sweep of mountain grandeurs stretching from Long’s Peak on the north around to the dim blue bulk of Pike’s on the south. It was the young woman who broke the spell. “You said you wanted to talk to me about Philip,” she reminded him. “Did you find him?”
“No. He left Leadville about the same time that I started from Denver. Our trains passed in the night.”
“Then he is in Denver now?”
“Yes.”
Silence for a time, and then: “You needn’t be afraid to tell me. I’m not a child.”
“All right; I’ll tell you what little there is to tell. I got in late and found him in the rooms in the Alamo. He was asleep in a chair when I went in, but he woke up after a while and talked to me. Drew hadn’t exaggerated any, whatsoever. Phil has hit the bottom, good and hard.”
“He—he is drinking?”
“It is everything in the calendar, I guess—from what he said.”
“Did he tell you why?”