“And I cannot well explain,” he went on sadly. “I must ask you to take it on trust. The favor I have come to ask is this, that you will not have anything further to do with that young man until your father’s return. I know this may seem very strange to you, but believe me if you understood you would not hesitate to do what I have asked.” Michael held her with his look and with his earnest tones. For a moment she could not speak from sheer astonishment at his audacity. Then she froze him with a look copied from her mother’s haughty manner. “And what reason can you possibly give for such an extraordinary request?” she asked at last, when his look compelled an answer. “I cannot give you a reason,” he said gravely. “You must trust me that this is best. Your father will explain to you when he comes.” Another pause and then Starr haughtily asked: “And you really think that I would grant such a ridiculous request which in itself implies a lack of trust in the character of one of my warmest friends?” “I most earnestly hope that you will,” answered Michael. In spite of her hauteur she could not but be impressed by Michael’s manner. His grave tones and serious eyes told hear heart that here was something out of the ordinary, at least she gave Michael credit for thinking there was. “I certainly shall not do anything of the kind without a good reason for it.” Starr’s tone was determined and cold. “And I can give you no reason beyond telling you that he is not such a man as a friend of yours should be.” “What do you mean?” “Please do not ask me. Please trust me and give me your promise. At least wait until I can write to your father.” Starr rose with a look of her father’s stubbornness now in her pretty face. “I wish to be told,” she demanded angrily. “You would not wish to be told if you knew,” he answered. She stood looking at him steadily for a full moment, then with a graceful toss of her lovely head, she said haughtily: “I must decline to accede to your request, Mr. Endicott. You will excuse me, I have a luncheon engagement now.” She stood aside for him to go out the door, but as he rose with pleading still in his eyes, he said: “You will write to your father and tell him what I have said? You will wait until you hear from him?” “It is impossible, Mr. Endicott.” Starr’s tone was freezing now, and he could see that she was very angry. “Mr. Carter is my friend!” she flung at him as he passed her and went out into the hall. Another night of anguish brought Michael face to face with the necessity for an interview with Starr’s mother. Taking his cue from the hour Starr had set for his call, he went a little before eleven o’clock and sent up the card of the firm with his own name written below; for he had very serious doubts of obtaining an interview at all if the lady thought he might be there on his own business.