ered him.

"Was it so awful?" she asked under her breath.

"For God's sake, don't ask questions!" said the boy angrily. "You know I
want to forget it. I shall never be quite right till I do forget it."

She was silent. It was his twin brother he had tried to save--staggering
back through a British barrage with the wounded man on his
shoulders--only to find, as he stumbled into the trench, that he had been
carrying the dead. He himself had spent six months in hospital from the
effects of wounds and shock. He had emerged to find himself a V. V. and
A. D. C. to his Army Commander; and apparently as gay and full of fun as
before. But his adoring mother and sisters knew very well that there were
sore spots in Peter.

Helena realized that she had touched one. She bent forward presently, and
laid her own hand on one of the hands that were handling the sculls.

"Dear Peter!"

He bent impetuously, and kissed the hand before she could withdraw it.

"Don't you play with me, Helena," he said passionately. "I'm not a child,
though I look it ... Now, then, let's have it out."

They had reached the middle of the pond, and were drifting across a
moonlit pathway, on either side of which lay the shadow of deep woods,
now impenetrably dark. The star in Helena's hair glittered in the light,
and the face beneath it, robbed of its daylight colour, had become a
study in black and white, subtler and more lovely than the real Helena.

"Why did you do it, Helena?" said Peter suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Why did you behave to me as you did, at the Arts Ball? Why did you cut
me, not once--but twice--three times--for that _beast_ Donald?"

Helena laughed.

"Now _you're_ beginning!" she said, as she lazily trailed her hand in the
water. "It's really comic!"

"What do you mean?"

"Only that I've already quarrelled with Cousin Philip--and
Geoffrey--about Lord Donald--so if you insist on quarrelling too, I shall
have no friends left."

"Damn Donald! It's like his impudence to ask you to dance at all. It made
me sick to see you with him. He's the limit. Well, but--I'm not going to
quarrel about Donald, Helena--I'm not going to quarrel about anything.
I'm going to have my own say--and you can't escape this time--you witch!"

Helena looked round the pond.

"I can swim," she said tranquilly.

"I should jump in after you--and we'd both go down together. No,
but--listen to me, dear Helena! Why won't you marry me? You say
sometimes--that yo