Mills laughed to relieve the remark of any suspicion of irony. There was nothing Shepherd dreaded so much as his father’s ironies. The dread was the greater because there was always a disturbing uncertainty as to what they concealed. “About those little matters I mentioned,” Mills went on, “I count on you to help.” “Certainly, father. Connie and I both will do all we can. I’m glad you spoke to me about it.” “All right, Shep,” and Mills opened the door to mark the end of the interview. IV In Leila’s room Constance had said, the moment they were alone: “Well, you certainly gummed it!” “Oh, shoot! Dada wouldn’t buy that Nelson place if it only cost a nickel.” “Well, you didn’t do much to advance the cause!” “See here,” said Leila, “one time’s just as good as another with Dada. I knew he’d never agree to it. I only spoke of it because you gave me the lead. You never seem to learn his curves.” “If you’d backed me up right we could have got him interested and won him over. Anybody could see that he was away off tonight--even more difficult than usual!” “Oh, tush! You and Shep make me tired. You take father too seriously. All you’ve got to do with him is just to kid him along. Let’s have a little drink to drown our troubles.” “Now, Leila----” Leila had drawn a hat-box from the inner recesses of a closet and extracted from it a quart bottle of whiskey. “I’m all shot to hell and need a spoonful of this stuff to pep me up! Hands off, old thing! Don’t touch--Leila scream!” Constance had tried to seize the bottle. “Leila, _please_ don’t drink! The Claytons are having everybody of any consequence at this party and if you go reeking of liquor all the old tabbies will babble!” “Well, darling, let them talk! At least they will talk about both of us then!” “Who’s talking about me?” Constance demanded. “Be calm, dearest! You certainly wore the guilty look then. Let’s call it quits--I’ve got to dress!” She poured herself a second drink and restored the bottle to its hiding place. CHAPTER SIX I Several interviews with Freeman had resulted in an arrangement by which Bruce was to enter the architect’s office immediately. As Henderson had predicted, Mrs. Freeman was a real power in her husband’s affairs. She confided to Bruce privately that, with all his talents, Bill lacked tact in dealing with his clients and he needed someone to supply this deficiency. And the office was a place of confusion, and Bill was prone to forgetfulness. Bruce, Mrs. Freeman thought, could be of material assistance in keeping Bill straight and extricating him from the difficulties into which he constantly stumbled in his absorption in the purely artistic side of his profession. Bruce was put to work on tentative sketches and estimates for a residence for a man who had no very clear idea of what he wanted nor how much he wanted to spend.