“N-no,” Helen hesitated, “though I suppose you’d have to ask Auntie.”
“Well, you didn’t have to do that,” he said in 259 alarm. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” he added quickly, “please forgive me.”
“You are forgiven,” said Helen, with a catch in her breath; then resolutely, “but that is all over with. It wasn’t really real––only a bad dream.”
“Of course, it wasn’t real,” sympathized Barnes. “That fellow just hypnotized you––and my eye, but he’s a wonderful looking chap––sort of a Hercules and Adonis all thrown into one. But to get back to Sadie––I’m going to marry her.”
“You are!” Helen half started from her chair.
“Be calm; be calm,” and he waved her down with his shackled hands. “When I say I’m going to marry her I merely state a fond belief I have been cherishing since, m’m––well since a very long time ago to-day or yesterday, for to-day is to-morrow by this time, you know. Now don’t stop me––I say I am going to marry your cousin because I believe in Destiny with a big D. Do you?”
“I did,” said Helen grimly, “but now I don’t.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” Barnes breezed on. “You may not think that you believe you do, but you really do, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the destiny you thought out––as far as the name goes––Travers Gladwin, I mean––comes true after all. But to come back to Sadie and my Destiny. I have really got to marry her––orders from headquarters!”
“Orders from headquarters!” gasped Helen.
“Exactly! My governor––that is, my dad––that 260 is, the pater––wrung a promise from me, issued a command, a ukase, an ultimatum––said: ‘Whitney Barnes, you go right out and get married and bring home a lot of grand-children.’ No; that wasn’t it exactly––now let me think a moment. Yes, I’ve got it––he said: ‘You’ve simply got to marry and settle down or I’ll turn you out into the street.’”