"Good luck to you," he answered. "Write me soon as you find out how
things are."

But as he walked from the station his heart misgave him. Why had he
let her go alone, knowing as he did how swift she blazed to passion
when wrong was done those she loved? It was easy enough to say that
she had refused to let him go with her, though he had several times
offered. The fact remained that she might need a friend at hand, might
need him the worst way.

All through breakfast he was ridden by the fear of trouble on her
horizon. Comrades stopped to slap him on the back and wish him good
luck in the finals, and though he made the proper answers it was with
the surface of a mind almost wholly preoccupied with another matter.

While he was rising from the table he made a decision in the flash of
an eye. He would join Rose in Denver at once. Already dozens of cars
were taking the road. There would be a vacant place in some one of
them.

He found a party just setting out for Denver and easily made
arrangements to take the unfilled seat in the tonneau.

By the middle of the afternoon he was at a boarding-house on Cherokee
Street inquiring for Miss Rose McLean. She was out, and the landlady
did not know when she would be back. Probably after her sister got
home from work.

Lane wandered down to Curtis Street, sat through a part of a movie,