They had come around the corner of the piazza, and there sat Dick Colton, tipped back on two legs of his chair. He rose quickly and made for the door. Helga called him back, and spoke brokenly: “You must write to your mother. I cannot yet. Oh, if I only dared be happy!” she wailed. “I know how strongly Petit Père felt against him, against your family. I could not——”
“Helga,” said Dick, catching her hands in his. “Listen, little girl, little sister. Haynes made me one of his trustees for you. Do you know why? Because he trusted me. Will you trust me too?” Helga’s tear-stained eyes looked into his. “Who would not?” she said.
“He left this charge in my honour: ‘Use your influence to guard her against marrying under circumstances that you would not approve for the woman you loved best in the world.’ With that charge upon me I solemnly tell you that you may come to us as with Harris Haynes’ blessing!”
He put her hand in Everard’s and disappeared through the door. The next instant Miss Dolly Ravenden, a heap of indignant fluff, was frowning at him from the wall against which she had staggered.
“What a way to come in!” she cried. “You bear! You—you untamed locomotive! Is anything chasing you?”
Impulse wild and unreckoning upleaped in the heart of Dick Colton then and there. Without a struggle he gave way to it.
Swinging her up in his powerful arms, he set her upon her feet, and bending, kissed her most emphatically upon the lips. Then he went upstairs in two bounds, saying at the first bound:
“Good Lord! Now I have ruined myself.” And at the second: “It was her own fault.”
And while he was making his Adamite excuse, Miss Ravenden, red, confused, and annoyed because she couldn’t seem to be properly angry, had walked out upon Helga sobbing in Everard’s arms.
“Ah,” she said thoughtfully, as she effected a masterly retreat, “it’s in the air to-day.”