For it had occurred to Hermione's practical mind that Applebo was doing, from his standpoint, a very loyal thing in claiming as a parent a man who, no matter how fine his personal qualities, was after all merely the sailing-master of a schooner-yacht. Viewed from a purely worldly aspect, Applebo was the social superior of Christian Heldstrom. Applebo was a blood-relation to royalty, independently well off, well educated, and a person to whom any society would be glad to open its doors. His father, on the other hand, was an ex-enlisted man of the United States Navy, at present holding a position which, if not exactly menial, was not far from it. It were not as though Applebo were drawn to his father by a tie of affection or early obligation. Heldstrom had never laid eyes upon his son, nor did Applebo owe his father anything but the mere fact of his physical existence, which can scarcely be recognised as a debt of gratitude. On the other hand, so far as Applebo knew, his father was merely a poor sailorman, dependent on his meagre pay, already advanced in years, and a possible care and burden for years to come. Impressed as she was by the romantic aspects of the case, all of these things occurred, nevertheless, to Hermione's practical reason and served greatly to elevate her opinion of Harold Applebo. To test him more thoroughly, she put forward, in a tentative way, a little of what was in her mind. "You are quite sure that you want to establish this relationship?" she asked. "Of course, while Captain Heldstrom is a very splendid man, and all of that, you really owe him nothing. And, socially, there is some difference between you." "Hermione!" Applebo's voice was actually pained. "But what is the particular advantage of it to you?" persisted Hermione. "Advantage! Don't you think it's an advantage to have a father? Especially, when he's as good a sort as you tell me that mine is? You surprise me, Hermione!" "But you are a young man of fortune and education and high connections, while he..." "Is my father," said Applebo, quietly. The blood rushed to Hermione's face. Her blue eyes filled. "Forgive me!" she cried. "I was just trying to ... to ... I wanted to see if you had any snobbery about you...." "But, my dear girl, how can one be snobbish about one's own father? That would be so inconsistent!" "Some people are," said Hermione. "Then I am not that particular sort of fool ... which is lucky for me, since I am so many others! No. I want my father. You don't know what it means to me to find that there is somebody so close to me. Hermione, I have been the most solitary person you can imagine...."