"Oh, Mr. Glover."
"Why—Miss Brock!" It was Gertrude.
"What in the world—" he began. His broken voice was very natural, she thought, but there was amazement in his utterance. He noticed there was little color in her face; the deep boa of fur nestling about her throat might account for that.
"What a chance that I should meet you!" she exclaimed, her back hard against the side wall, for the hall was narrow and brought them face to face. She spoke on. "Did you get my——?"
"Did I?" he echoed slowly; "I have travelled every minute since yesterday afternoon to get here——"
Her uneasy laugh interrupted him. "It was hardly worth while, all that."
"—and I was just going up to find out about getting to Glen Tarn."
"Glen Tarn! I left Glen Tarn this afternoon all alone to go to Medicine Bend—papa is there, did you know? He came yesterday with all the directors. Our car was attached for me to the afternoon train coming down." She was certainly wrought up, he thought. "But when we reached here the train I should have taken for Medicine Bend had not come——"
"It is here now."
"Thank heaven, is it?"