"Mr. Snowden," Milly began gently, "you are my father's oldest friend in the city."
"Guess I know that."
"He's very unhappy."
"Has good reason to be."
She made the direct appeal.
"Why do you do this thing, Mr. Snowden? Why do you want to ruin my father—your old friend?"
"Guess you don't understand—he's pretty nearly ruined me!" Snowden emitted with a snort.
"Yes, I understand," Milly replied glibly. "Business had been very bad. My friends tell me all business has been dreadful since the Fair—everybody feels poor. But why make things worse? A little time, and it will be different."
She smiled at him persuasively.
"I want to save my own skin, what there is left to save," he grumbled. "Your father's made a pretty bad mess of things, Milly."