"Don't bother me, Morgan," said Helen, impatiently. They were in the drawing-room, not far from the curtained door. "But we start next week--" "That," murmured Thaddeus, "is not, in point of fact, such a bad idea." "And now, Nellie, I think it would be better if every one knew what you are to me before I left. I'll tell you why I didn't want it before--" "It's funny, but you never take the trouble to ask what you are to me." There was a silence that suggested threats. As far as Thaddeus could make out she had seemed to speak quite coolly. "She won't lose her head. God bless her!" he thought; "but--a--I think I'll step into this." "If you're going to be subtle," said Morgan, at last, with a new harshness and blare in his voice, "I sha'n't understand it. It's perfectly simple. I want you to tell your uncle--Well, then, I will." Thaddeus pulled the curtain and went through. "I beg pardon. I seem to be referred to." Morgan turned where he stood. Helen sat in a low chair before the sea-coal fire, and did not look up or turn her head. "I should have--if I had supposed the conversation was to be of such a private nature--I should have--a--signified my presence before. As it is, I take the opportunity to observe that your--a--importunity appears to be unpleasant to Helen, to request that you--a--leave her alone, and to state that--a--no engagement between you will ever exist with my consent or her mother's." "It does exist." "I doubt it. Have you, then, ever promised to marry him, Helen?" "I don't remember I was ever asked to." Something like a flame went across Morgan's face, left red spots on it, and a glare in his eyes. "Helen!" The chandelier shook with his voice and step. Helen did not move or look at him. Thaddeus raised a deprecating hand. "I must beg you not to shout in my house." Morgan paused and concentrated. The natural thing to do, the simple instinct, would be, with one hand to crumple up this grinning old idiot--tall stock and curled hair and all--stuff him away somewhere, and carry off Helen into the windy night, with her white dress and blue ribbon around the throat. It seemed impossible, even in an artificial age, that slim creatures should dare to balk him. She stood up quickly, and he caught her closely about the shoulders with his arm. "It's absolute nonsense--" "Please let me go, Morgan. I don't want to fight." "Tell your uncle you belong to me." "No!" "Helen, do as I say!" "No!" Thaddeus pointed at Morgan's arm. "Will you kindly--thank you." Helen fled, through hall and up the stairs, a shimmer of white skirts past the hall lamp; and in her room she leaned from the window and let the rain drive against her face. Mrs. Mavering's window threw a great bar into the night. Morgan's voice below seemed to fill the drawing-room, the hall, and came rolling up the stair after her, in muttering pursuit. She gave a half sob, listened a moment, and began to laugh. "I'm glad Uncle Tad has that row."