The father contrived to answer her lightly, more lightly than Latham could have done at the moment. That physician was growing more and more anxious.
“What on earth do you think Latham and I could be having a confidential chat about?”
Helen laughed. She had the prettiest laugh in the world. And her flower-like face brimmed over with mischief. “I thought perhaps he was asking your advice about matrimony.”
“Latham?” exclaimed Bransby, so surprised that he almost dropped his precious jade god with which he was still toying.
Latham was distinctly worried—Latham the cool, imperturbable man of the world. “Now, really, Miss Bransby,” he began, and then halted lamely.
“You don’t mean to say that he is contemplating marrying? Latham the adamant bachelor of Harley Street?”
Helen wagged her pretty head impishly. “I can’t say whether he is contemplating it or not, but I know he is face to face with it.”
“Well, upon my word!” Bransby was really interested now.
Latham was intensely uncomfortable. “I am afraid,” he began again, “Miss Bransby exaggerates the danger——”
“Danger?” the girl mocked at him. “That’s not very gallant, is it?”