"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