emerged. A philosopher and economist, holding on to Helena's skirts in
her rush through the world, would cut too sorry a figure. Besides, could
she ever have married him--which was of course impossible, in spite of
the courses in Meredith and Modern Literature through which he had taken
her--she would have tired of him in a year, by which time both their
fortunes would have been spent. For he knew himself to be a spendthrift
on a small income, and suspected a similar propensity in Helena, on the
grand scale. He returned, therefore, more or less contentedly, to his
musings upon an article he was to contribute to _The Market Place_, on
"The Influence of Temperament in Economics." The sounds of dance music in
the distance made an agreeable accompaniment.

Meanwhile a scene--indisputably sentimental--was passing on the lake.
Helena and Geoffrey French going down to the water's edge to find a boat,
had met halfway with Cynthia Welwyn, in some distress. She had just heard
that Lady Georgina had been taken suddenly ill, and must go home. She
understood that Mawson was looking after her sister, who was liable to
slight fainting attacks at inconvenient moments. But how to find their
carriage! She had looked for a servant in vain, and Buntingford was
nowhere to be seen. French could do no less than offer to assist; and
Helena, biting her lip, despatched him. "I will wait for you at the
boathouse."

He rushed off, with Cynthia toiling after him, and Helena descended to
the lake. As she neared the little landing stage, a boat approached it,
containing Buntingford, and two or three of his guests.

"Hullo, Helena, what have you done with Geoffrey?"

She explained. "We were just coming down for a row."