"Mr. Cleland," she said, "before I go, I have several things to say to you. One is that I like you." He reddened with surprise, but expressed his appreciation pleasantly and without embarrassment. "Yes," continued Miss Quest, reflectively, "you’re much like your father. He and I began our acquaintance by differing: we ended friends. I hope his son and I may continue that friendship." "I hope so," he said politely. "Thank you. But the keynote to friendship is frankness. Shall I sound it?" "Certainly," he replied, smiling. "Very well: my niece ought to have a woman companion when she returns from college at Easter." "Why?" he asked, astonished. "Because she isn’t your sister, and she’s an attractive girl." After a silence she went on: "I know that you and Stephanie regard each other as brother and sister. But you’re not. And the world knows it. It’s an absurd world, Mr. Cleland." "It’s rather a rotten world if Steve and I can’t live here alone together without gossip," he said hotly. "Let’s take it as we find it and be practical. Shall I look up a companion for Stephanie, or shall I return here at Easter?" He pondered the suggestion, frowning. Miss Quest said pleasantly: "Please, I don’t mean to interfere. You are of age, and over. But the world, if it cares to think, will remember that you and Stephanie are not related. In two years, when you return from Europe, Stephanie will be twenty and you twenty-four. And, laying aside the suggestion that an older woman’s presence might be advantageous under the circumstances, who is going to control Stephanie?" "Control her?" "Yes, control, guide, steady her through the most critical period of her life?" The young fellow, plainly unconvinced, looked at Miss Quest out of troubled eyes. "Come," she said briskly, "let’s have a heart-to-heart talk and find out what’s ahead of us. Let’s be business-like and candid. Shall we?" "By all means." "Then we’ll begin at the very beginning: "Stephanie is a dear. But she’s very young. And at twenty she will still be very, very young. What traits and talents she may have inherited from a clever, unprincipled father—my own nephew, Mr. Cleland—I don’t know. God willing, there’s nothing of him in her—no tendencies toward irregularities; no unmoral inclination to drift, nothing spineless and irresponsible. "As for Stephanie’s mother, I know little about her. I think she was merely a healthy young animal without education, submitting to and following instinctively the first man who attracted her. Which happened to be my unhappy nephew." She shook her head and gazed musingly at the window where the sunshine fell. "There are the propositions; this is the problem, Mr. Cleland. Now, let us look at the conditions which bear directly on it. Am I boring you?" "No," he said. "It’s very necessary to consider this matter. I’m just beginning to realize that I’m really not fitted to guide and control Stephanie." She laughed.