But instead of moving, she looked down affectionately at her uniform and
her neat brown leggings.

"What a bore! I suppose I've no right to them any more."

"What is your uniform?"

"Women Ambulance Drivers. Don't you know the hostel in Ruby Square? I
bargained with Cousin Philip after Mummy's death I should stay out my
time, till I was demobbed. Awfully jolly time I had--on the whole--though
the girls were a mixed lot. Well--let's get a move on." She sprang up.
"Your room's next door."

Mrs. Friend was departing when Helena enquired:

"By the way--have you ever heard of Cynthia Welwyn?"

Mrs. Friend turned at the door, and shook her head.

"Oh, well, I can tot her up very quickly--just to give you an idea--as
she's coming to dinner. She's fair and forty--just about Buntingford's
age--quite good-looking--quite clever--lives by herself, reads a great
deal--runs the parish--you know the kind of thing. They swarm! I think
she would like to marry Cousin Philip, if he would let her."

Mrs. Friend hurriedly shut the door at her back, which had been slightly
ajar. Helena laughed--the merry but very soft laugh Mrs. Friend had first
heard in the hall--a laugh which seemed somehow out of keeping with the
rest of its owner's personality.