Linda nodded in King's direction. "It's surely a duty Bertram owes to a benighted world to marry."
He turned to her again with the same direct, quick movement as before.
She met his gaze, finding some difficulty in giving her own just the right proportion of light scorn.
"I should like to see myself married to you!" she exclaimed slowly.
"Would you?" he responded with lively interest, and rising, strode across to her, while she retreated to the furthest corner of her chair. "Then we're of the same mind for once." He seized her hand, while the teacup in the other rocked and tinkled in a manner to cause the liveliest apprehension in its owner. "Witness, both of you. Linda and I are engaged."
The girl's strong heart pounded violently as she found that vigorous efforts could not free her hand. Color burned her cheeks. Her father's factotum had never seemed to consider her affairs or herself as of any importance, and her habit of thought toward him was an effort to assure him of absolute reciprocation.
"Let me go," she said sharply. "Don't be silly."
"Come on," he urged. "Let's give your father a pleasant surprise. Henry, Harriet, speak up. Tell her what's for her good."
Harriet, the conventional, was anxious under the growing anger in her sister's dark eyes.
"Behave, Bertram," she said severely. "I don't like joking on those subjects. Go back to your chair and I'll give you a lecture much more sensible than yours to me."
"I'm not joking. I believe I could make something fine out of Linda." He gazed down into the girl's face as he spoke.
Henry Radcliffe laughed derisively. "You poor nut," he remarked. "Better not try the Cave-Dweller stunt on Linda. The club would be likely to change hands."
The captured fingers struggled a moment more, while the two pairs of eyes exchanged their combative gaze.
There had never been any jocose passages between the girl and her father's favorite co-worker. There had been moments when she had even felt desire for his approval. The present audacity amazed and disconcerted her, and coercion was simply hateful.
Finding effort to free herself futile, she set her tea down on the arm of her chair, and quickly taking up the cup, deliberately poured the hot, creamy liquid over as much of her captor's cuff as was visible. The cuff collapsed, the tea was hot. King abruptly dropped the girl's hand, and set himself to wiping his own with his handkerchief.