As the young man from the mountains let himself in through the door that bore the name of his employer's firm, the other man was standing with his back turned and his eyes fixed on some trifle on his desk. The back of a standing figure, no less than its front, may be eloquent of its feelings, and had the shoulder blades of Colonel Wallifarro's gifted son been those of a hairy caveman, instead of an impeccably tailored modern, there would perhaps have been bristles standing erect along his spine. Wellver saw that warning of ugly mood in the instant before Morgan wheeled, and he wheeled with a military quickness and precision. "I was a little bit puzzled," said the younger man, meeting the glaring eyes with a coldly steady glance, "at your asking me to come here tonight. I couldn't think of any work we'd been doing together." "I won't leave you in perplexity long," the wrathful voice of the other assured him. "I asked you to come because I couldn't well say what needed to be said under my father's roof--while you were a guest there." "I take it, then, that it's something uncomplimentary?" "I mean to go further than that." Boone nodded, but he came a step nearer, and the lids narrowed over his eyes. "Whatever you might feel like saying to me, Mr. Wallifarro," he announced evenly, "would be a thing I reckon I could answer in a like spirit. But because I owe your father so much--that I've got to be mighty guarded--I hope you won't push me too far." "I haven't the right to say whom my father shall permit in his house," declared Morgan with, as yet, a certain remnant of restraint upon his anger, "but I do assert plainly and categorically that I shan't remain silent under the abuse of that hospitality." "I'm afraid you're still leaving me in considerable perplexity. I believe you promised not to do that long." "I'd rather not go into details--and I think you know what I mean. I came down the stairs there a short while ago. You were with Anne--and I didn't like the picture I saw." "What picture?" "For God's sake, at least be honest!" retorted Morgan passionately. "Whatever barbarities mountain men have, they are presumed to be outspoken and direct of speech." "We generally aim to be. I'm asking _you_ to be the same." "Very well. I mean to marry Anne, who is my cousin--and whose social equal I am. It doesn't please me to have you confuse my father's welcome with the idea of free and easy liberty. Is that clear?" Morgan was glaring up into Boone's eyes, since Boone stood several inches the taller, and Boone's fingers ached to take him by the neck and shake him as a terrier does a rat. The need of remembering whose son he was became a trying obligation. "Does Anne--whose social equal you are--know--that you're going to marry her?" he inquired, with a quiet which should have warned Morgan had he just then been able to recognize warnings. "Perhaps," was the curt rejoinder, and Boone laughed.