"I thought you'd be a good counter-irritant; and hoped you'd come to your senses and secure Venetia against all Marbridges for all time to come. You gave me to understand you would."
"Pardon," he corrected a trifle stiffly: "I admitted to you in strict confidence that I was in love with Venetia. I never promised to ask her to marry me."
"Well, that's what I understood you to mean. And anyway, you'd better. Neither Tankerville nor I can control the girl; she's her own mistress and headstrong enough to be a good match for any Matthias that ever lived. If Marbridge ever convinces her that she likes him...."
She concluded with an eloquent ellipsis.
"Probably," mused Matthias after prolonged deliberation, "I'd have lost my head before this if it hadn't been so full of that play."
Helena smiled indulgently. "It's not too late ... I hope."
Troubled, he rose, walked to the balustrade, jerked his cigarette into space, and returned.
"As between one fortune-hunter and another," he said gloomily, "I'm conceited enough to think myself the safer bet."
His aunt smiled more openly: "See what Venetia thinks."
"I will!" said Matthias with a fine air of inalterable determination.