her a trouble of it, old girl," he said
affectionately. "It's no good doing that, you know. You wait and let me
have a talk with Henry."

"I think," she replied, "that nearly everything possible has already
been said to him."

"Perhaps you've put his back up a bit," Richard suggested, "and he may
really be on the lookout for something all the time."

"It has been a long search!" Philippa retorted, with quiet sarcasm. "Let
us talk about something else."

They gossiped for a time over acquaintances and relations, made their
plans for the week--Richard must report at the War Office at once.

Philippa grew more and more silent as the meal drew to a close. It was
at Helen's initiative that they left Richard alone for a moment over
his port. She kept her arm through her friend's as they crossed the hall
into the drawing-room, and closed the door behind them. Philippa stood
upon the hearth rug. Already her mouth had come together in a straight
line. Her eyes met Helen's defiantly.

"I know exactly what you are going to say, Helen," she began, "and I
warn you that it will be of no use."

Helen drew up a small chair and seated herself before the fire.

"Are you going away with Mr. Lessingham, Philippa?" she asked.

"I am," was the calm response. "I made up my mind this afternoon. We are
leaving to-night."

Helen stretched out one foot to the blaze.

"Motoring?" she enquired.

"Naturally," Philippa replied. "You know there are no trains leaving
here to-night."

"You'll have a cold ride," Helen remarked. "I should take your heavy fur
coat."

Philippa stared at her companion.

"You don't seem much upset, Helen!"

"I think," Helen declared, looking up, "that nothing that has ever
happened to me in my life has made me more unhappy, but I can see that
you have reasoned it all out, and there is not a single argument I could
use which you haven't already discounted. It is your life, Philippa, not
mine."

"Since you are so philosophical," Philippa observed, "let me ask
you--should you do what I am going to do, if you were in my place?"

"I should not," was the firm reply.

Philippa laughed heartily.

"Oh, I know what you are going to say!" Helen continued quickly. "You'll
tell me, won't you, that I am not temperamental. I think in your heart
you rather despise my absolute fidelity to Richard. You would call it
cowlike, or something of that sort. There is a difference between us,
Philippa, and that is why I am a