A short time after Wilkinson's return from the yachting trip, Leslie received a message that her father would like to see her. She found him with an unlighted cigar between his fingers sitting in his big arm-chair in the Den, gazing into space, his face like a mask.
"You sent for me, father, and I came," she said, entering, a faint smile on her lips.
"I sent for you," he told her in a level unemotional voice, "to find out something—something that you can tell me if you will. Strange things are happening nowadays. There are matters I'd like to settle before——"
"Before what?" she asked, startled.
"Before I plunge into this appeal and forget everything else," he answered easily; but now with just enough anxiety in his manner to alarm her, he repeated: "There's something that I've got to know—something that only you can tell me, girlie."
"I'll tell you anything, father," she answered softly.
Wilkinson caught her by the hand and drew her to him, asking so suddenly that she started: "Who's the man you're going to marry?"
The girl disengaged herself from her father's embrace. The blood rushed to her face, and she laughed a little uneasily. After a moment she answered:
"How can I tell! He—nobody's asked me. Has anybody asked you, father?"
Wilkinson chuckled over her reply, though her evasiveness slightly irritated him.