Munt did not see, and indeed Margaret was making a most
questionable statement--that any emotion, any interest once vividly
aroused, can wholly die.

"I also have the honour to inform you that the Wilcoxes are bored with
us. I didn't tell you at the time--it might have made you angry, and you
had enough to worry you--but I wrote a letter to Mrs. W, and apologised
for the trouble that Helen had given them. She didn't answer it."

"How very rude!"

"I wonder. Or was it sensible?"

"No, Margaret, most rude."

"In either case one can class it as reassuring."

Mrs. Munt sighed. She was going back to Swanage on the morrow, just as
her nieces were wanting her most. Other regrets crowded upon her: for
instance, how magnificently she would have cut Charles if she had met
him face to face. She had already seen him, giving an order to the
porter--and very common he looked in a tall hat. But unfortunately his
back was turned to her, and though she had cut his back, she could not
regard this as a telling snub.

"But you will be careful, won't you?" she exhorted.

"Oh, certainly. Fiendishly careful."

"And Helen must be careful, too."

"Careful over what?" cried Helen, at that moment coming into the room
with her cousin.

"Nothing" said Margaret, seized with a momentary awkwardness.

"Careful over what, Aunt Juley?"

Mrs. Munt assumed a cryptic air. "It is only that a certain family,
whom we know by name but do not mention, as you said yourself last
night after the concert, have taken the flat opposite from the
Mathesons--where the plants are in the balcony."

Helen began some laughing reply, and then disconcerted them all by
blushing. Mrs. Munt was so disconcerted that she exclaimed, "What,
Helen, you don't mind them coming, do you?" and deepened the blush to
crimson.

"Of course I don't mind," said Helen a little crossly. "It is that you
and Meg are both so absurdly grave about it, when there's nothing to be
grave about at all."

"I'm not grave," protested Margaret, a little cross in her turn.

"Well, you look grave; doesn't she, Frieda?"

"I don't feel grave, that's all I can say; you're going quite on the
wrong tack."

"No, she does not feel grave," echoed Mrs. Munt. "I can bear witness to
that. She disagrees--"

"Hark!" interrupted Fraulein Mosebach. "I hear Bruno entering the hall."

For Herr Liesecke was due at Wickham Place to call for the two younger
girls. He was not entering the hall--in fact, h