“Oh, Freddy’s all right!” Leila replied easily. “He’s always asking me to go places with him, and I’d turned him down until I was ashamed to refuse any more.” “I think,” said her father, “it might be as well to begin refusing again. What about him, Shep?” “He’s a good sort, I think,” Shepherd replied after a hasty glance at his wife. “But of course----” “Of course, he’s divorced,” interposed Constance, “and he hasn’t been here long. But people I know in Chicago say he was well liked there. What is it he has gone into, Shep?” “He came here to open a branch of a lumber company--a large concern, I think,” Shepherd replied. “I believe he _has_ been divorced, Father, if that’s what’s troubling you.” “Oh, he told me all about the divorce!” interposed Leila imperturbably. “His wife got crazy about another man and--biff! Don’t worry, Dada; he isn’t dangerous.” III When they had gone upstairs to the library for coffee, Leila lighted a cigarette and proceeded to open some letters that had been placed on a small desk kept in the room for her benefit. She perched herself on the desk and read aloud, between whiffs of her cigarette, snatches of news from a letter. Shepherd handed her a cup and she stirred her coffee, the cigarette hanging from her lip. Constance feigned not to notice a shadow of annoyance on her father-in-law’s face as Leila, her legs dangling, occasionally kicked the desk frame with her heels. “By the way, Leila,” said Constance, “the Nelsons want to sell their place at Harbor Hills. They haven’t been there for several years, you know. It’s one of the best locations anywhere in Michigan. It would solve the eternal summer problem for all of us--so accessible and a marvelous view--and you could have all the water sports you wanted. And they say the new clubhouse is a perfect dream.” Shepherd Mills’s cup tottered in its saucer with a sharp staccato. He had warned his wife not to broach the matter of purchasing the northern Michigan cottage, which she had threatened to do for some time and had discussed with Leila in the hope of enlisting her as an ally for an effective assault upon Mills. “It’s a peach of a place, all right,” Leila remarked. “I wonder if the yacht goes with the house. I believe I could use that yacht. Really, Dada, we ought to have a regular summer place. I’m fed up on rented cottages. If we had a house like the Nelsons’ we could all use it.” She had promised Constance to support the idea, but her sister-in-law had taken her off guard and she was aware that she hadn’t met the situation with quite the enthusiasm it demanded. Mills was lighting a cigar in his usual unhurried fashion. He knew that Constance was in the habit of using Leila as an advocate when she wanted him to do something extraordinary, and Leila, to his secret delight, usually betrayed the source of her inspiration. “What do the Nelsons want for the property?” he asked, settling himself back in his chair.