out of the window.

"Oh, she's all right," he said easily. "Just an innocent kid writer for
_Scribbler's_ who's trying to make good writing about the beautiful
scenery around here. I was a bit suspicious of her at first myself, but
picked her up this morning an' we had quite a talk. Mighty pretty little
girl."

Miss La Rue elevated her eyebrows, watchfully regarding him through smoke
wreaths.

"Oh, cut it, Ned," she exclaimed curtly. "We all know you are a perfect
devil with the women. The poor thing is in love with you, no doubt, but
that doesn't answer my question, who is she?"

"Her name is Donovan."

"That sounds promising; what do you make it, shanty Irish?"

"I should say not," warmly. "She's a lady, all right. Oh, I know 'em,
if I don't meet many of that kind. We got chummy enough, so she told me
all about herself--her father's a big contractor and has money to burn."

"Did you ever hear the beat of that, Enright? Neddy is about to feather
his nest. Well, go on."

"That's about all, I guess, only she ain't nothin' you need be afraid of."

"Sure not, with a watch-dog like you on guard. But if you ask me, I
don't like the idea of her happening in here just at this time. This is