"Don't think you're driving me out," he sneered. "I've said what I had to say 'nd am ready to go."
"Which is fortunate for you, but not so fortunate for me. I'd welcome a chance to throw you out!"
John's voice trembled on that, as a burst of dislike ran through him. He opened the door and with a quick gesture indicated the way out.
"Don't be in such a rush, young feller. I ain't quite—"
He had paused to fasten the last button of his coat, but John grasped his arm and with a yank impelled him to the threshold. Sim struggled and stopped and half turned to protest, but the door swung swiftly shut and he stepped into the rain to avoid being struck by it.
Taylor stood by the door until the car moved away. Helen had gone to her desk, seating herself weakly, supporting her head on one hand. He could see her profile, softened by the yellow glow of the lamp. She was very lovely, this beauty in distress, and he let the pride of being her defender come to full life. His chagrin at her repulses was even stronger now, for he felt that he held the upper hand. He had no genuine concern for her, no sympathy for her fright and depression. No longer would she patronize him! She would eat out of his hand, now! He moved to the desk and stood looking down at her. Helen lifted her face and met the amusement in his eyes.
"I thank you," she said. "It is lucky for me you were here."
He laughed depreciatingly and settled his weight to the corner of her desk, swinging the one leg, big hands clasped on his thigh.
"And it is lucky for me," he said, "that I was here. Helping you gave me a real thrill."
