emerged with a breakfast tray and he saw her start up to Laura's room. She
was there for over an hour. And when she returned to his study, he saw her
eyes were shining. How women's eyes will shine at such times, he told
himself in annoyance.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Better leave her alone to-day," she advised. "Harold is coming some night
soon."

"What for?"

"To have a talk with you."

Her father smote his paper. "What did she tell you about him?" he asked.

"Not much more than she told you. His parents are dead--but he has a rich
widowed aunt in Bridgeport who adores him. They mean to be married the end
of May. She wants a church wedding, bridesmaids, ushers--the wedding
reception here, of course--"

"Oh, Lord," breathed Roger dismally.

"We won't bother you much, father dear--"

"You _will_ bother me much," he retorted. "I propose to be
bothered--bothered a lot! I'm going to look up this fellow Sloane--"

"But let's leave him alone for to-day." She bent over her father
compassionately. "What a night you must have had, poor dear." Roger looked