JEAN BELIEVES THAT SHE TAKES MATTERS INTO HER OWN HANDS After all, Jean did not have to fight her way clear through "Warring Mexico" and back again, in order to reach Nogales.

She let Lite take her to the snug little apartment which she was to share with Muriel and her mother, and she fancied that she had been very crafty and very natural in her manner all the while he was with her, and that Lite did not dream of what she had in her mind to do.

At any rate, she watched him stalk away on his high-heeled riding-boots, and she thought that his mind was perfectly at ease.

(Jean, I fear, never will understand Lite half as well as Lite has always understood Jean.) She caught the next down-town car and went straight to the information bureau of the Southern Pacific, established for the convenience of the public and the sanity of employees who have something to do besides answer foolish questions.
She found a young man there who was not averse to talking at length with a young woman who was dressed trimly in a street suit of the latest fashion, and who had almost entrancing, soft drawl to her voice and a most fascinating way of looking at one.

This young man appeared to know a great deal, and to be almost eager to pass along his wisdom.
He knew all about Nogales, Mexico, for instance, and just what train would next depart in that general direction, and how much it would cost, and how long she would have to wait in Tucson for the once-a-day train to Nogales, and when she might logically expect to arrive in that squatty little town that might be said to be really and truly divided against itself.