he threw at her, in a sarcastic voice.

"Well, even that--would be nicer--than London," she said slowly. "I never imagined I should like the country so much. Of course I wish there was more to do. I told Philip so last night."

"And what did he say?"

But she suddenly flushed and evaded the question.

"Oh, well, he hadn't much to say," said Helena, looking a little conscious. "Anyway, I'm getting a little education. Mrs. Friend's brushing up my French--which is vile. And I do some reading every week for Philip--and some drawing. By the way"--she turned upon her companion--"do you know his drawings?--they're just ripping! He must have been an awfully good artist. But I've only just got him to show me his things. He never talks of them himself."

"I've never seen one. His oldest friends can hardly remember that time in his life. He seems to want to forget it."

"Well, naturally!" said Helena, with an energy that astonished her listener; but before he could probe what she meant, she stooped over him:

"Geoffrey!"

"Yes!"

He saw that she had coloured brightly.

"Do you remember all that nonsense I talked to you a month ago?"

"I can remember it if you want me to. Something about old Philip being a bully and a tyrant, wasn't it?"

"Some rubbish like that. Well--I don't want to be maudlin--but I wish to put it on record that Philip _isn't_ a bully and he _isn't_ a tyrant. He can be a jolly good friend!"

"With some old-fashioned opinions?" put in Geoffrey mockingly.

"Old-fashioned opinions?--yes, of course. And you needn't imagine that I shall agree with them all. Oh, you may laugh, Geoffrey, but it's quite true. I'm not a bit crushed. That's the delightful part of it. It's because he has a genius--yes, a genius--for friendship. I didn't know him when I came down here--I didn't know him a bit--and I was an idiot. But one could trust him to the very last."

Her hands lay idly on the bright-coloured knitting, and Geoffrey could watch the emotion on her face.

"And one is so glad to be his friend!" she went on softly, "because he has suffered so!"

"You mean in his marriage? What do you know about it?"

"Can't one guess?" she went on in the same low voice. "He never speaks of her! There isn't a picture of her, of any sort, in the house. He used to speak of her sometimes, I believe, to mother--of course she never said a word--but never, never, to anyone else. It's quite clear that he wants to forget it altogether. Well, you don't want to forget what made you happy.

And he says such bitter things often. Oh, I'm sure it was a tragedy!"

"Well--why doesn't he marry again?" Geoffrey had turned over on his elbows, and seemed to be examining the performances of an ant who was trying to carry off a dead fly four times his size.

Helena did not answer immediately, and Geoffrey, looking up from the ant, was aware of conflicting expressions passing across her face. At last she said, drawing a deep breath:

"Well, at least, I'm glad he's come to like this dear old place--He never used to care about it in the least."

"That's because you've made it so bright for him," said Geoffrey, finding a seat on a tree-stump near her, and fumbling for a cigarette. The praises of Philip were becoming monotonous and a reckless wish to test his own fate was taking possession of him.

"I haven't!"--said Helena vehemently. "I have asked all sorts of people down he didn't like--and I've made him live in one perpetual racket. I've been an odious little beast. But now--perhaps--I shall know better what he wants."

"Excellent sentiments!" A scoffer looked down upon her through curling rings of smoke. "Shall I tell you what Philip wants?"

"What?"

"He wants a wife."

The attentive eyes fixed on him withdrew themselves.

"Well--suppose he does?"

"Are you going to supply him with one? Lady Cynthia, I think, would accommodate you."

Helena flushed angrily.

"He hasn't the smallest intention of proposing to Cynthia. Nobody with eyes in their head would suggest it."

"No--but if you and he are such great friends--couldn't you pull it off?

It would be very suitable," said Geoffrey coolly.

Helena broke out--the quick breath beating against her white bodice:

"Of course I understand you perfectly, Geoffrey--perfectly! You're not very subtle--are you? What you're thinking is that when I call Philip my friend I'm meaning something else--that I'm plotting--intriguing--"

Her words choked her. Geoffrey put out a soothing hand--and touched hers.

"My dear child:--how could I suggest anything of the kind? I'm only a little sorry--for Philip,"

"Philip can take care of himself," she said passionately. "Only a _stupid--conventional_--mind could want to spoil what is really so--so--"

"So charming?" suggested Geoffrey, springing to his feet. "Very well, Helena!--then if Philip is really nothing more to you than your guardian, and your very good friend--why not give some one else a chance?"

He bent over her, his kind, clever face aglow with the feeling he could no longer conceal. Their eyes met--Helena's at first resentful, scornful even--then soft. She too stood up, and put out a pair of protesting hands--"Please--please, Geoffrey,--_don't_."

"Why not--you angel!" He possessed himself of one of the hands and made her move with him along the avenue, looking closely into her eyes. "You must know what I feel! I wanted to speak to you last night, but you tricked me. I just adore you, Helena! I've got quite good prospects--I'm getting on in the House of Commons--and I would work for you day and night!"

"You didn't adore me a month ago!" said Helena, a triumphant little smile playing about her mouth. "How you lectured me!"

"For you highest good," he said, laughing; though his heart beat to suffocation. "Just give me a word of hope, Helena! Don't turn me down, at once."

"Then you mustn't talk nonsense," she said vehemently, withdrawing her hand. "I don't want to be engaged! I don't want to be married! Why can't I be let alone?"

Geoffrey had turned a little pale. In the pause that followed he fell back on a cigarette for consolation. "Why can't you be let alone?" he said at last. "Why?--because--you're Helena!"

"What a stupid answer!" she said contemptuously. Then, with one of her quick changes, she came near to him again. "Geoffrey!--it's no good pressing me--but don't be angry with me, there's a dear. Just be my friend and help me!"

She put a hand on his arm, and the face that looked into his would have bewitched a stone.

"That's a very old game, Helena. 'Marry you? Rather not! but you may join the queue of rejected ones if you like.'"

A mischievous smile danced in Helena's eyes.