"I think the more highly of you. Judge Lawton is an old friend of mine. His wife, who was much younger than the Judge, was an intimate friend of my daughter, Mrs. Abbott. Alexina and Aileen have grown up together. I find it impossible to forbid her the house. But I disapprove of her in every way. She paints her lips, smokes cigarettes, boasts that she drinks cocktails, and uses the most abominable slang. I kept my daughter in New York for two years as much to break up the intimacy as to finish her education, but the moment we returned the intimacy was renewed, and for my old friend's sake I have been forced to submit. He worships that--that--really ill-conditioned child." "Oh--Miss Lawton is a good sort, and--well--I suppose her position is so strong that she feels she can do as she pleases. But she is all right, and not so different--" "Do you mean to tell me that you approve of girls--nice girls--ladies--painting themselves, smoking, drinking cocktails?" "I do not." His tones were emphatic and his good American gray eyes wandered to the fresh innocent face of the girl who had captivated him last night. "I should hope not. You look like an exceptionally decent young man. Have you had breakfast? Alexina, go and ask Maggie, if she has recovered herself, to make another cup of coffee." II Alexina disappeared, repressing a desire to sing; and young Dwight, receiving permission, seated himself on the grass at Mrs. Groome's feet. He was lithe and graceful and as he threw back his head and looked up at his hostess with his straight, honest glance the good impression he had made was visibly enhanced. Mrs. Groome gave him the warm and gracious smile that only her intimate friends and paid inferiors had ever seen. "The young men of to-day are a great disappointment to me," she observed. "Oh, they are all right, I guess. Most of the men that go about have rich fathers--or near-rich ones. I wish I had one myself." "And you would be as dissipated as the rest, I presume." "No, I have no inclinations that way. But a man gets a better start in life. And a man's a nonentity without money." "Not if he has family." "My family is good--in Utica. But that is of no use to me here." "But your family _is_ good?" "Oh, yes, it goes 'way back. There is a family mansion in Utica that is over two hundred years old. But when the business district swamped that part of the old town it was sold, and what it brought was divided among six. My father came out here but did not make much of a success of himself, so that he and my mother might as well have been on the Fiji Islands for all the notice society took of them." He spoke with some bitterness, and Mrs. Groome, to whom dwelling beyond the outer gates of San Francisco's elect was the ultimate tragedy, responded sympathetically. "Society here is not what it used to be, and no doubt is only too glad to welcome presentable young men. I infer that you have not found it difficult."