"I remember now. I ran across him in British Columbia. We camped together one night. I'd never seen him before and I didn't see him again. He said he wanted a letter to old Pete for some reason, so I scribbled him one in pencil on the back of an envelope. I've never met any one who played a better game of draw poker. He cleaned me out. There's a lot in that fellow, in spite of his looking like a musical comedy dude. He's clever." Ann looked at him meditatively. "It's odd that you should be discovering hidden virtues in Lord Wisbeach, father. I've been trying to make up my mind about him. He wants me to marry him." "He does! I suppose a good many of these young fellows here want the same thing, don't they, Ann?" Mr. Chester looked at his daughter with interest. Her growing-up and becoming a beauty had always been a perplexity to him. He could never rid himself of the impression of her as a long-legged child in short skirts. "I suppose you're refusing them all the time?" "Every day from ten to four, with an hour off for lunch. I keep regular office hours. Admission on presentation of visiting card." "And how do you feel about this Lord Wisbeach?" "I don't know," said Ann frankly. "He's very nice. And--what is more important--he's different. Most of the men I know are all turned out of the same mould. Lord Wisbeach--and one other man--are the only two I've met who might not be the brothers of all the rest." "Who's the other?" "A man I hardly know. I met him on board ship--" Mr. Chester looked at his watch. "It's up to you, Ann," he said. "There's one comfort in being your father--I don't mean that exactly; I mean that it is a comfort to me AS your father--to know that I need feel no paternal anxiety about you. I don't have to give you advice. You've not only got three times the sense that I have, but you're not the sort of girl who would take advice. You've always known just what you wanted ever since you were a kid. . . . Well, if you're going to take me down to the boat, we'd better be starting. Where's the car?" "Waiting outside. Aren't you going to say good-bye to aunt Nesta?" "Good God, no!" exclaimed Mr. Chester in honest concern. "What! Plunge into that pack of coyotes and fight my way through to her! I'd be torn to pieces by wild poets. Besides, it seems silly to make a fuss saying good-bye when I'm only going to be away a short time. I shan't go any further than Colombia this trip." "You'll be able to run back for week-ends," said Ann.