“Oh, Crawford, please don't joke. You know I asked you not to come here. When we last spoke together, over the telephone, I told you that if you came here I should not see you. And yet you came.” His manner changed. He was serious enough now. “I came,” he said, “because--well, because I felt that I must. I had many things to tell you, Mary, and something to ask. And I could neither tell nor ask in a letter. Dad and I have quarreled--we've parted company.” She had expected to hear it, but it shocked and grieved her, nevertheless. She knew how he had loved his father. “Sit down, Crawford,” she said gently. “Sit down and tell me all about it.” He told her. There was little more to tell than he had written. His father had not become more reconciled to the idea of his marrying Mary. Instead his opposition was just as violent and, to his son's mind, as unreasonably absurd. Day after day Crawford waited, hoping that time would bring a change or that his own arguments might have an effect, but neither time nor argument softened Edwin Smith's obstinacy. “He behaved like a madman at times,” declared Crawford. “And at others he would almost beg me on his knees to give you up. I asked him why. I told him over and over again that he should be proud to have such a girl for his daughter-in-law. I said everything I could. I told him I would do anything for him--anything he asked--except give you up. That I would not do. And it was the only thing he seemed to wish me to do. Talked about bringing shame and disgrace on his head and mine--and all sorts of wild nonsense. When I asked what he meant by disgrace he could not tell me. Of course he couldn't.” That was true, of course he could not tell. Mary knew, and she realized once more the tortures which the man must have suffered, must be suffering at that moment. “So at last we parted,” said Crawford. “I left word--left a letter saying that, so far as I could see, it was best that I went away. We could not agree apparently, he and I, upon the one point which, as I saw it, was the most important decision of my life. And I had made that decision. I told him how much I hated to leave him; that I loved him as much as I ever did. 'But,' I said, 'I shall not give up my happiness and my future merely to gratify your unreasonable whim.' Then I came away and started East to you.” He paused, evidently expecting Mary to make some comment or ask a question, but she was silent. After a moment he went on.