"I guess you're sincere enough," he said; "and I'm not trying to cut the ground of hope out from under your feet, as you put it out on the platform—but
it seems to me that it is only the kindly thing to do to warn you that the more faith you put in a thing like this the worse you are making it for yourself—you are laying up a bitter disappointment in store that can only make your present misfortune the more unbearable."
The Flopper shook his head.
"If he's done it fer others, he can do it fer me," he repeated, with unshaken conviction. "An' dat goes—I can't lose."
Thornton tilted his chair back again, and stared at the Flopper with pitying incredulity.
There was silence for a moment; then Mrs. Thornton spoke.
"Robert," she said slowly, "I want to stop at Needley."
The front legs of Thornton's chair came down on the heavy carpet with a dull thud, and he whirled around in his seat to stare at his wife.
"You don't mean to say, Naida," he gasped, "that you've got faith in this thing, too!"
"No; not faith," she answered pathetically. "I hardly dare to hope. I have hoped so much in the last year, and—"