“What’s that? You say the words you used don’t _mean_ anything?” “Not a thing, Dada. If you’d tell a man you didn’t love him he’d be sure to think you did!” “A dangerous idea, I should think.” “Oh, no! Everything’s different from what it was when you were young!” “Yes; I’ve noticed that!” he replied drily. “But seriously, Leila, this meeting a man--a man we know little about--at other people’s houses won’t do! You ought to have more self-respect and dignity than that!” “You’re making too much of it, Dada! It’s happened only two or three times. I thought you were sore about Freddy’s coming here so much, and I _have_ met him other places--always perfectly proper places!” “I should hope so!” he exclaimed with his first display of spirit. “But you can’t afford to go about with him. You’ve got to remember the community has a right to expect the best of you. You should think of your dear mother even if you don’t care for me!” “Now, Dada!” She leveled her arm at him, the smoking cigarette in her slim fingers. “Don’t be silly; you _know_ I adore you; I’ve always been perfectly crazy about you!” She spoke in much the same tone she would have used in approving of a new suit of clothes he had submitted for inspection. “Now, I have your promise----” he said, sitting up alertly in his chair. “Promise, Dada?” she inquired, her thoughts far afield. “Oh, about Freddy! Well, if you’ll be happier I promise you now never to marry him. Frankly--_frankly_--I’m not going to marry anybody right away. When I get ready I’ll probably marry Arthur if some widow doesn’t snatch him first. But please don’t crowd me, Dada! If there _is_ anything I hate it’s being crowded!” “Nobody’s crowding you!” he said, feeling that she was once more eluding him. “Then don’t push!” she laughed. “Let’s not have any more nonsense,” he said. “I think you do a lot of things just to annoy me. It isn’t fair!” “Why, Dada!” she exclaimed in mock astonishment. “I thought you liked being kidded. I kid all your old friends and it tickles ’em to death.” “Go to bed!” he retorted, laughing in spite of himself. She mussed his hair before kissing him good-night, but even as he turned away he could see that her thoughts were elsewhere. VII Behind his own door, as he thought it over, the interview was about as unsatisfactory as an interview could be. She had kept it in her own hands, left him no opening for the eloquent appeal he had planned or the severe scolding she deserved. He wished he dared go back and put his arms about her and tell her how deeply he loved her. But he lacked the courage; she wouldn’t understand it. It was the cruelest of ironies that he dare not knock at his child’s door to tell her how precious she was to him.