“That’s right, that’s right. Now if anything should happen to trouble you, I want you to come to me and tell me all about it. I wish there to be complete confidence between us. If anything perplexes you, tell me; if it is trivial I want to know, and if it is serious I want to know. Sometimes an apparently trivial problem is really a serious one, and vice-versa; and remember, it is almost as important to classify your problem as to solve it. That’s where I can help you; for even if I could not disentangle the skein, I could perhaps show you that it was not worth unravelling.” The girl regarded her father earnestly while he spoke, and then, as if to show that woman’s intuition will touch the spot around which a man’s reason is elaborately circling, she startled him by saying: “Father, something has happened concerning me, that has made you anxious on my account. What is it? I think I should know. Has my step-mother been saying----” “No no, my child, your step-mother has been saying nothing about you. And if she had I would not--that is, I would have given it my best attention, and would have no hesitation in letting you know what it was. You mustn’t jump at conclusions; perhaps I am talking with unnecessary seriousness; all I wish to impress upon you is that although I am seemingly absorbed in business, you are much more important to me than anything else--that, in fact, since your mother died, you are the only person who has been of real importance to me, and so if you want anything, let me know--a new frock, for instance, of exceptional expensiveness. I think you will find that where your happiness is concerned, I shall not allow any prejudices of mine to stand in the way.” The girl looked up at her father with a smile. “I don’t think my happiness will be endangered for lack of a new gown,” she said. “Well, dress is very important, Edna, we mustn’t forget that; though I merely instanced dress for fear you would take me too seriously. And now, my girl, let us get home. This is our last conference in this office, you know, and there has somehow entered into it the solemnity that pertains to all things done for the last time. Now if you are ready, I am.” “Not quite, father. You see, I like this office--I always did,--and now--after to-night--it will always seem sacred to me. All this talk has been about an insignificant person and her clothes--but what impresses me, father, is how much alone you have been nearly all your life. I never realized that before. Now after this you must talk over your business with me; I may not be able to help, at first, but later on, who can tell? Then it will flatter me by making me think our compact is not one-sided. Is it a bargain, father?” “It is a bargain, Edna.” The father drew the daughter towards him and the bargain was sealed. He turned out the lights, and they hurried down the stair to the slumbering cabman. The fog had reached down almost to the top of his head.