Helena's face composed itself.

"I don't know why I should be flattered. She was a horrid minx. That no
doubt was what the likeness consisted in!"

Mrs. Friend laughed, but said nothing. Helena rose from the grass,
pausing to say as she turned towards the house:

"We're going to dance in the drawing-room, Mawson says. They've
cleared it."

"Doesn't it look nice?"

Helena assented. "Let me see--" she added slowly--"this is the third
dance, isn't it, since I came?"

"Yes--the third."

"I don't think we need have another"--the tone was decided, almost
impatient--"at least when this party's over."

Mrs. Friend opened her eyes.

"I thought you liked to dance every week-end?"

"Well--ye-es--amongst ourselves. I didn't mean to turn the house
upside-down every week."

"Well, you see--the house-parties have been so large. And besides there
have been neighbours."