Andy Green, chief prevaricator of the Happy Family of the Flying U-and not ashamed of eithertitle or connection-pushed his new Stetson back off his untanned forehead, attempted to negotiatethe narrow passage into a Pullman sleeper with his suitcase swinging from his right hand, and buttedinto a woman who was just emerging from the dressing-room. He butted into her so emphaticallythat he was compelled to swing his left arm out very quickly, or see her go headlong into thewindow opposite; for a fullsized suitcase propelled forward by a muscular young man may prove avery efficient instrument of disaster, especially if it catches one just in the hollow back of the knee.The woman tottered and grasped Andy convulsively to save herself a fall, and so they stood blockingthe passage until the porter arrived and took the suitcase from Andy with a tip-inviting deference.Andy apologized profusely, with a quaint, cowpunchery phrasing that caused the woman to take asecond look at him. And, since Andy Green would look good to any woman capable ofrecognizing-and appreciating-a real man when she saw him, she smiled and said it didn't matterin the least.That was the beginning of the acquaintance. Andy took her by her plump, chiffon-veiled arm andpiloted her to her seat, and he afterward tipped the porter generously and had his own belongingsdeposited in the section across the aisle. Then, with the guile of a foreign diplomat, he betookhimself to the smoking-room and stayed there for three quarters of an hour. He was not taking anyparticular risk of losing the opportunity of an unusually pleasant journey, for the dollar he hadinvested in the goodwill of the porter had yielded the information that the lady was going through toGreat Falls. Since Andy had boarded the train at Harlem there was plenty of time to kill betweenthere and Dry Lake, which was his destination.The lady smiled at him rememberingly when finally he seated himself across the aisle from her, and without any serious motive Andy smiled back. So presently they were exchanging remarks aboutthe journey. Later on, Andy went over and sat beside her and conversation began in earnest. Hername, it transpired, was Florence Grace Hallman. Andy read it engraved upon a card which addedthe information that she was engaged in the real estate business-or so the three or four wordsimplied. "Homemakers' Syndicate, Minneapolis and St. Paul," said the card. Andy was visiblyimpressed thereby. He looked at her with swift appraisement and decided that she was "all to thegood."