"He's had a row with the governor of South Carolina at New Orleans. I was to have met him here on an important matter of business this afternoon, but he's cleared out and nobody knows what's become of him. His daughter, even, who was in New Orleans with him, doesn't know where he is."
"When was she in New Orleans with him?" asked Ardmore, looking at his watch.
"She—who?" asked Billings, annoyed.
"Why, the daughter!"
"I don't know anything about the daughter, but if I could find her father I'd give him a piece of my mind," and the secretary's face flushed angrily.
"Well, I suppose she isn't the one I'm looking for, anyhow," said Ardmore resignedly.
"I should hope not," blurted Billings, who had not really taken in what Ardmore said, but who assumed that it must necessarily be something idiotic.
"She had fluffy hair," persisted Ardmore to this serious-minded gentleman whose life was devoted to the multiplication of the Ardmore millions. Ardmore's tone was that of a child who persists in babbling inanities to a distracted parent.
"Better let girls alone, Tommy. Mrs. Atchison told me you were going to marry Daisy Waters, and I should heartily approve the match."