softly.

"Well, perhaps it shouldn't," she said, "but, you see, you have given
yourself away. But I may as well warn you at once that I know nothing
about my father. He has even forbidden me the house, and I have not seen
him for weeks,"

He nodded.

"So I understood," he said. "May I be quite frank?"

"Of course," she answered. "If you really have anything to say to me, I
should prefer it."

"Then after the oysters I will undertake to be," he declared, smiling.

He turned away to send a boy out for some flowers and order some wine,
and afterwards they proceeded with their lunch, talking of the slight
things of the moment. Littleson, in that little group of millionaires,
represented youth, and to a certain extent fashion. He came from one of
the better-known families in New York. He had rooms and connections in
London and Paris. He was fairly good looking, and always irreproachably
dressed. Stella looked at him more than once approvingly. He was
certainly a desirable companion. For the rest, she had little vanity,
and she knew well enough that he had some purpose of his own in seeking
her out. She had only known of him as one of her father's allies, and
she was puzzled to know the meaning of that first question of his.

He seemed in no hurry, however, to satisfy her curiosity. He had
ordered a wonderful lunch, and not until they had reached its final