"There's your answer, Lady Grey Eyes," I laughed.
"What are we talking about?" Mr. Claybourne inquired.
"It's just a private joke between Ted and me, dad. You wouldn't understand," Helen explained.
"Then I don't think it's very polite of you to refer to it before others," her father grumbled. "I'm surprised at you, Ted."
"My opinion exactly," Miss Conover hastened to agree.
The tension was broken by the arrival of the maid with three kinds of pie—mince, pumpkin, and cranberry. Upon the later arrival of coffee, Miss Conover got up from the table.
"Time's up," she announced. "We'll carry Mr. Edward upstairs."
"A bargain's a bargain, and I'll go quietly," I said, "but damn it all just the same."
"Edward, will you oblige me by not swearing before Helen," Mr. Claybourne declaimed.
"I beg your pardon—and Helen's, if she wants it. Happiness has a bad effect on my manners."