Howard came, and presently they went into the darkened dining-room.  Sanchia was entertaining Longstreet with an account of her first coming into this perfectly dreadful country, and so it came about that Helen and Alan entered together and found chairs side by side.  Since for the greater part of the meal Sanchia monopolized the university man, Alan and Helen were left largely to themselves.  And, largely, they were silent.  He sought to engage her in talk some two or three times, found her quiet and listless, and in the end gave up all attempt at conversation.  After lunch, while Mrs. Murray’s tongue was still racing merrily for the benefit of the professor, Howard succeeded in getting Helen alone at the far end of the porch.

‘Look here, Helen,’ he said after his outright style, ’what’s the matter?  What have I done?’

‘Helen?’ she repeated after him.

’Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Helen, or Miss Longstreet, or Your Ladyship.  That Helen just slipped out.’

’So I noticed.  Is it a little habit of yours calling girls by their first names when——­’

‘I don’t know any girls,’ he cut in vigorously.

She lifted her brows at him.

‘How about Sanchia Murray?  Isn’t she——­’

‘Damn Sanchia Murray,’ he said savagely.

‘I’m talking about you!  You and me.’

Helen gasped.  Either his oath shocked her or she gave a very excellent imitation of a maiden thunder-stricken by such language as she had never dreamed a man could employ.  Certainly not a man who had the slightest claim to the title of a gentleman.

‘I beg your pardon again,’ muttered Howard.  ’That’s twice.  And now tell me, will you, what I’ve done?’

Just what had he done?  Helen had to think fast.  He was tall and straight and manly, he stood looking honestly into her eyes, he was good to look upon and he struck her as very much of a man all the way through.  Further, he had said ‘Damn Sanchia Murray,’ quite as though he meant it with all his heart.  Just what had he done?

‘Are you going to tell me?’ he was asking again.  ’That’s only fair, you know.’

‘Don’t you know?’ countered Helen.  She looked the part of a girl who knows very well herself, but is in doubt whether or not she should speak about it.

‘No,’ he told her vigorously, ’honest to grandma, I don’t.  But I’m sorry, just the same.’

Then, all suddenly and with no premeditation, Helen smiled and Alan Howard’s heart grew warm.

‘Maybe sometime I’ll tell you,’ she informed him.  ’If you didn’t mean it, we’ll forget it now.  And I’ll try to believe that you didn’t mean anything.’