the branches, which no one could have noticed from outside, the little
creek, with their boat in it, was plainly visible, and beyond it the
lights on the lawn.

"A jolly good observation post for a sniper!" said Geoffrey,
recollections of the Somme returning upon him; so far as he was able to
think of anything but Helena's warm loveliness beside him. Mad thoughts
began to surge up in him.

But an exclamation from Helena checked them:

"I say!--there's something here--in the seat."

Her hand groped near his. She withdrew it excitedly.

"It's a scarf, or a bag, or something. Let's take it to the light. Your
woman, Geoffrey!"

She scrambled down, and he followed her unwillingly, the blood racing
through his veins. But he must needs help her again through the
close-grown branches, and into the boat.

She peered at the soft thing she held in her hand.

"It's a bag, a little silk bag. And there's something in it! Light a
match, Geoffrey."

He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and obeyed her. Their two heads
stooped together over the bag. Helena drew out a handkerchief--torn, with
a lace edging.