"Alexander Rowl. Is there—is there anything in the telegram about me? Aw, come now!"
The young woman laughed pleasantly. There was a romance in the wind. Her interest was coy.
"Would you like to know?" she teased, her face dimpling.
Sandy Rowl responded readily to this dimpling, flashing banter. A conclusion suggested itself with thrilling conviction.
"I would!" he declared.
"And to think that I could tell you!"
"I'm sure you could, ma'am!"
The young woman turned to Tommy Lark.
"Your name's Lark?"
"Yes, ma'am. There's nothin'—there's nothin' in the telegram about a man called Thomas Lark, is there?"