“Don’t smooth it down on my account,” said Dick grimly. “You seem to be in a fairly frank mood to-day.”
The imp of the perverse indeed was guiding Dolly’s words now. “From a man one knows nothing whatever about,” she concluded.
“And isn’t interested in knowing,” suggested he. “I’m as fond of Helga as of my own sister,” she went on vehemently. “She is only a year younger than I, but I’ve been about so much more that I—well, I assume some responsibility for her.” Her tone challenged Dick. He merely bowed.
“You know how it is between Helga and your brother?”
“Something of it.”
“And knowing, do you think it was right to bring him down here?”
“Why not?”
“Because,” said Miss Ravenden hotly, “your family became panic-stricken at the thought of Everard’s marrying Helga, before they even took the trouble to find out anything about her. To insult a woman whom they have never seen! Why—why—Helga is as—— If I had a brother, and Helga Johnston was willing to marry him I should count it an honour to the Ravendens.”
All the imperious pride of a family who had been landed gentry in the South, while Colton’s sturdy forebears were wielding pick and shovel in the far West, who had signed the Declaration of Independence before the first American Colton had worked a toilsome passage across from his North Country hovel to the land of sudden riches, shone in her eyes.
“So should I!” returned Dick quietly. “But surely Helga Johnston did not tell you all this?”