“Been at it again?” he said at last. “Since last time?” “Twice,” she answered. “I didn't like to tell you--I've hated to bother you about it. But--what am I to do? I dislike him intensely--I can't tell why, but it's there, and nothing could ever alter the feeling. And though I told him--before--that it was useless--he mentioned it again--yesterday--at Mrs. Folliot's garden-party.” “Confound his impudence!” growled Ransford. “Oh, well!--I'll have to settle with him myself. It's useless trifling with anything like that. I gave him a quiet hint before. And since he won't take it--all right!” “But--what shall you do?” she asked anxiously. “Not--send him away?” “If he's any decency about him, he'll go--after what I say to him,” answered Ransford. “Don't you trouble yourself about it--I'm not at all keen about him. He's a clever enough fellow, and a good assistant, but I don't like him, personally--never did.” “I don't want to think that anything that I say should lose him his situation--or whatever you call it,” she remarked slowly. “That would seem--” “No need to bother,” interrupted Ransford. “He'll get another in two minutes--so to speak. Anyway, we can't have this going on. The fellow must be an ass! When I was young--” He stopped short at that, and turning away, looked out across the garden as if some recollection had suddenly struck him. “When you were young--which is, of course, such an awfully long time since!” said the girl, a little teasingly. “What?” “Only that if a woman said No--unmistakably--once, a man took it as final,” replied Ransford. “At least--so I was always given to believe. Nowadays--” “You forget that Mr. Pemberton Bryce is what most people would call a very pushing young man,” said Mary. “If he doesn't get what he wants in this world, it won't be for not asking for it. But--if you must speak to him--and I really think you must!--will you tell him that he is not going to get--me? Perhaps he'll take it finally from you--as my guardian.” “I don't know if parents and guardians count for much in these degenerate days,” said Ransford. “But--I won't have him annoying you. And--I suppose it has come to annoyance?” “It's very annoying to be asked three times by a man whom you've told flatly, once for all, that you don't want him, at any time, ever!” she answered. “It's--irritating!” “All right,” said Ransford quietly. “I'll speak to him. There's going to be no annoyance for you under this roof.” The girl gave him a quick glance, and Ransford turned away from her and picked up his letters. “Thank you,” she said. “But--there's no need to tell me that, because I know it already. Now I wonder if you'll tell me something more?” Ransford turned back with a sudden apprehension. “Well?” he asked brusquely. “What?”