"I see nothing wrong with him," said Helena, a touch of defiance in her voice. "But of course it's extraordinarily difficult to get on with him."
"With Philip!--the jolliest, kindest chap going! What do you mean?"
"All right. It's no good talking to anybody with a _parti pris_!"
"No--but seriously, Helena--what's the matter? Why, you told me you only began the new arrangement two days ago."
"Exactly. And there's been time already for a first-class quarrel. Time also for me to see that I shall never, never get on with him. I don't know how we are to get through the two years!"
"_Well_!" ejaculated her companion. "In Heaven's name, what has he been doing?"
Helena shrugged her shoulders. She was striding beside him like a young Artemis--in white, with a silver star in her hair, and her short skirts beaten back from her slender legs and feet by the evening wind. Geoffrey French, who had had a classical education, almost looked for the quiver and the bow. He was dazzled at once, and provoked. A magnificent creature, certainly--"very mad and very handsome!"--he recalled Buntingford's letter.
"What's the good? You'll only side with him--and _preach_. You've done that several times already."
"I don't preach!" he said shortly. "I say what I think--_when_ you ask me. Twice, if I remember right, you told me of some proceeding of yours, and asked me for my opinion. Well, I gave it, and it didn't happen to be yours. But that isn't preaching."
"You gave so many reasons--it _was_ preaching."
"Great Scott!--wasn't it more polite to give one's reasons?"
"Perhaps. But one shouldn't _burst_ with them. One should be sorry to disagree."
"Hm. Well--now kindly lay down for me, how I am to disagree with you about Philip. For I do disagree with you, profoundly."
"There it is. Profoundly--that shows how you enjoy disagreeing. Why can't you put yourself at my point of view?"
"Well, I'll try. But at least--explain it to me."
Helena threw herself into a garden chair, under a wild cherry which rose a pyramid of silver against an orange sky. Other figures were scattered about the lawns, three or four young men, and three or four girls in light dresses. The air seemed to be full of laughter and young voices. Only Mrs. Friend sat shyly by herself just within the drawing-room window, a book on her knee. A lamp behind her brought out the lines of her bent head and slight figure.