"Well, I'd like to know," he demanded, "how you happen to know 89 what his name is?"
"He—he sent me his card," said Daphne. This time her eyelashes were quite unmistakably too heavy to lift. "At the hotel, I mean," she faltered, "three or four nights ago. He sent me orchids. He sent me candy. He sent me——"
"Do you mean," said her father, "that this man has been following you for days?"
"Yes," said Daphne.
"And—and what did you do with these—these offerings?" asked her father.
"Why, I didn't know just what to do with them," stammered Daphne. "I was so frightened—I—I gave them to the bell boy."
"Do you mind telling me," quickened her father, "just why if you were frightened or troubled you wouldn't call upon your most natural protector?"
Like the fluffy edges of two feather fans Daphne's lashes fringed on her cheeks.
"This father and daughter game is such a new one to me," she said. "I've lived so much with boarding school girls—I—I didn't know fathers were people you told things to, I thought 90 they were people that you kept things from!" Very faintly around the tremulous young mouth, very briefly behind the dark lashes a little smile signaled.
"Take off that gown!" ordered her father quite abruptly, "and wrap yourself up in that big coat of mine! And wait here till I come back!"