Shepherd, she realized perfectly, was a disappointment to his father. Countless points of failure in the relationship of father and son were manifest to her, things of which Shepherd himself was unconscious. It was Mills’s family pride that had prompted him to make Shepherd president of the storage battery company, and the same vanity was responsible for the house he had given Shepherd on his marriage--a much bigger house than the young couple needed. He expected her to bear children that the continuity of the name might be unbroken, but the thought of bearing children was repugnant to her. Still, the birth of an heir, to take the name of Franklin Mills, would undoubtedly heighten his respect for her--diminish the veiled hostility which she felt she aroused in him. “Where’s Leila?” asked Shepherd as dinner was announced and they moved toward the dining-room. “She’ll be along presently,” Mills replied easily. “Dear Leila!” exclaimed Constance. “You never disciplined her as you did Shep. Shep would go to the stake before he’d turn up late.” “Leila,” said Mills a little defensively, “is a law unto herself.” “That’s why we all love the dear child!” said Constance quickly. “Not for worlds would I change her.” To nothing was Mills so sensitive as to criticism of Leila, a fact which she should have remembered. As they took their places Mills asked her, in the impersonal tone she hated, what the prospects were for a gay winter. She was on the committee of the Assembly, whose entertainments were a noteworthy feature of every season. There, too, was the Dramatic Club, equally exclusive in its membership, and Constance was on the play committee. Mills listened with interest, or with the pretense of interest, as she gave him the benefit of her knowledge as to the winter’s social programme. They were half through the dinner when Leila arrived. With a cheerful “Hello, everybody,” she flung off her wrap and without removing her hat, sank into the chair Shepherd drew out for her. “Sorry, Dada, but Millie and I played eighteen holes this afternoon; got a late start and were perfectly starved when we finished and just had to have tea. And some people came along and we got to talking and it was dark before we knew it.” “How’s your game coming on?” her father asked. “Not so bad, Dada. Millie’s one of these lazy players; she doesn’t care whether she wins or loses, and I guess I’m too temperamental to be a good golfer.” “I thought Millie was pretty strong on temperament herself,” remarked Shepherd. “Well, Millie is and she isn’t. She’s not the sort that flies all to pieces when anything goes wrong.” “Millie’s a pretty fine girl,” declared Shepherd. “Millicent really has charm,” remarked Constance, though without enthusiasm.