"No. Frankly, I like him. Everyone likes him. He's a dear. But as to Eleanor--" The Judge had risen and taken off his skull cap. "Well, she has run a ranch and she's travelled alone to Europe and back, and she's saved the soul if not the body of a father. And I wonder whether a girl who's all that to her credit can't be trusted to deal with the problem of an undesirable though attractive young man--" "If I were only sure he was undesirable!" "It is according," responded the Judge, "to your definition of undesirability. If you mean worldly circumstances, you needn't fear for Bertram Chester. He resigns from my firm this month." "What for?" "Attwood brought me news of it. I don't know where he's going. I'm not supposed to know anything. But for to get rich, for one thing." He closed his book and restored it to its place on the shelves. "He took the left-hand road, you see. It was manifest destiny; and you and I and Eleanor cannot move one whit the career of that young man." CHAPTER XII When Kate called him up over the telephone, inviting him, second-hand, to join a Masters party at Sanguinetti's restaurant, Bertram interrupted his banter to ask if Eleanor were going. "I'm sure I don't know what her plans are," said Kate. "Why don't you ask her?" The tone was a little cold. Remembering his duty, Bertram did ask Eleanor over the telephone. "I'm sorry," answered Eleanor, "but I had to decline." "Oh, duck your engagement if you have any!" he said, pleading like a boy. "It'll do you good to jolly up!" But she was firm. He matched the cool tone of Kate with the equally cool tone of Eleanor, and wondered, as he hung up the telephone, whether anything had gone wrong between those girls. He remembered now that he had not seen Kate at the Tiffany's since the expedition into Chinatown. Had he but known it, he was perceiving late a thing of which others were making gossip already. While Bertram freshened up his toilet in his room and thought hard on this, Kate Waddington, at home in the Mission, was making certain special preparations of her own. Mrs. Waddington could measure the importance of her daughter's engagements by the care she took with her toilet. Fresh lace indicated the first degree of importance, her latest pair of shoes the second degree, and perfectly fresh white gloves raised the engagement to the highest degree of all. To-night, all these omens served. Further, Mrs. Waddington saw that Kate was rummaging through the unanswered letters in her writing desk, saw that she was comparing two of them. Kate picked up the larger one. She was wearing furs, since the April night was chilly. This letter she tucked carefully into her muff. "Why in the name of common sense are you taking that letter along to a dinner party?"