u. I want to talk to you,
Helen. Have one of these stale buns. What a meal for you! We've got to
settle this affair."

"But it is settled."

"Eat your bun and listen, and don't be forward."

She laughed at him. "It was forward to come here, wasn't it?"

"It was adorable. But since last Sunday, I have been thinking. What do
you know about life, about men? I'm just the one who has chanced across
your path. It's like stealing you. It isn't fair."

"There's Daniel," she said solemnly. "And the dentist. And your father
when we had measles. And George Halkett--"

"Be serious."

"There's the tinker."

"Who on earth is he?"

"A man Rupert told me about, a made-up man, but he has come alive in my
mind. I wish he hadn't. I might meet him. Once I nearly did, and if I
met him, Zebedee--"

"Darling, I wish you'd listen. Suppose you married me--"

"You want me to marry you?"

"My dear, precious child--"

"I wasn't sure. Go on."

"If you married me, and afterwards you found some one you liked better,
as well you might, what would happen then?"

"I should make the best of you."

"You wouldn't run away?"

"If I went, I should walk, but I shouldn't go. I'm like that. I belong
to people and to places."

"You belong to me."

"Not yet. Not quite. I wish I did, because then I should feel safe, but
now I belong to the one who needs me most. Notya, perhaps."

"And if we were married?"

"Then I should just be yours."

"But we are married."

"No," she said.

"I don't see the distinction."

"But it's there," she said, and once more he felt the iron under her
grace.

"This isn't modern, Helen."

"No, I'm simple."

"And I don't like it." He was grave; the muscles in his cheek were
twitching and the brown flecks in his eyes moved quickly. "Marry me at
once."

"You said I was too young!"

"I say it still." He paced the room. "It's true, but neither your youth
nor anything else shall take you from me, and, oh, my little heart, be
good to me."

"I can't be good enough and I'll marry you when you want me."

"This week?"

She caught his hand and laid her cheek against it. "Oh, I would, I
would, if Notya didn't need me."

"No one," he said, "needs you as I do. We'll be married in the spring."

Her hand and her smile acknowledged what he said while her eyes were
busy on his thin face, his worn, well-brushed clothes, the books and
papers on his desk, the arrangements of the room.

"I don't like any of you