"Theodore doesn't know what he is saying," muttered Basil in a tone of suppressed rage; and his brother, looking at him mockingly, saw that his face was as crimson as that of Patricia's.
"Really, I seem to be like the Goddess of Discord," went on the intruder, intent upon bringing about a catastrophe; "you seemed jolly enough when I entered, laughing and talking and----"
"We'll be jolly, again, when you leave," snapped Basil savagely.
"I daresay. But you shan't have Miss Carrol all to yourself. No, don't go, Miss Carrol, you see that I am addressing you with all respect." He rose and slipped between her and the door as he spoke. "I want Basil to see that you like me as much as you do him."
Patricia looked nervous and her feelings were not soothed when Basil rose in his turn. "Go away, Miss Carrol," he said sternly, and the veins on his forehead stood out with rage. "I can deal with Theodore."
"Theodore can deal with himself," said that gentleman, turning on his brother with a black look on his face. "You are always taking up Patricia's time, and I have a right to it also. Yes"--he faced to the startled girl--"I intend to call you Patricia because I love you. I want you to marry me."
"Theodore, are you mad?" thundered Basil furiously.
"Is it mad to ask a girl's hand in marriage?" sneered Theodore.
Patricia stopped the further speech of Basil with an imperative gesture and looked at Theodore. "I am well able to take care of myself," she said quietly. "Mr. Dane, I thank you for your offer, but I decline it."
"Oh, I am not so handsome as Basil. I am not so rich as Uncle George!"