ns. It was curious! He kept
it to himself, and that was bad as well. To Hubert he had raised the
curtain for one moment, with those sketches of his own, but the
audience had not seemed keen for more. And as for Helena--well,
inwardly Geoffrey Alison was an odd mixture; but he remained a
gentleman outside.

All the same, to-night was trying him a little hard.

Helena's friendliness had thrilled him from the day they met. He had
never met a woman--anyhow not young and pretty--who had taken to him
like that from the first. He never had regarded himself as a lady's
man; he was too small and timid; yet she had seemed to find nothing
wrong with him. She had adopted him as her guide and philosopher in
art; gone about with him more, almost, than with that absurdly busy
fellow Brett; until the cattish vicar's wife----!

And now----!

Of course he knew that she was just a girl, and jolly innocent and all
that sort of thing (Brett liked to keep her back), but even so, any one
surely would admit that it was a little bit exciting and peculiar. The
way she asked him in; and then he could not make out why she changed
her mind about the dining-room and came into the drawing-room where she
sat down upon the sofa and looked simply ripping. It was all very odd!

Of course she was innocent and jolly, but he believed that she was fond
of him and some day he would love--when they were all alone like
this--if only half in fun--to give her just one kiss. She surely
couldn't mind? It would be splendid and exciting. (It may be added
that Geoffrey Alison thought more of its excitement than its splendour.)

The very idea made being with her like this so difficult and trying.
He could not think of anything to say. It all sounded wrong.

Even Helena noticed, at last.

"How dull you are to-night!" she said peevishly, for they were old
friends and she never troubled to sort out her words. "I believe you
_did_ want to work or else had something else to do."

"Of course not," he protested, feeling horribly wronged in the
circumstances. "This is awfully jolly." Why couldn't he be natural?

Helena was not so confident about the jollity. "Hugh _must_ be here
soon," she remarked rather wearily.

"Why do you call him Hugh?" he asked, jumping at a topic. "Surely
that's not really short for Hubert? It ought to be Bert!"

"Oh, how dare you?" she asked gaily; she felt that they had got back on
to the old easy paths. "Bert indeed