ourselves at all!--that's the real truth of
it," said Helena with gloomy decision. "But what are we to do--women, I
mean? They told me at the hospital yesterday they get rid of their last
convalescents next week. What _is_ there for me to do? If I were a
factory girl, I should be getting unemployment benefit. My occupation's
gone--such as it was--it's not my fault!"

"Marry, my dear child,--and bring up children," said Buntingford bluntly.
"That's the chief duty of Englishwomen just now."

Helena flushed and said nothing. They drifted nearer to the bank, and
Helena perceived, at the end of a little creek, a magnificent group of
yew trees, of which the lower branches were almost in the water. Behind
them, and to the side of them, through a gap in the wood, the moonlight
found its way, but they themselves stood against the faint light,
superbly dark, and impenetrable, black water at their feet. Buntingford
pointed to them.

"They're fine, aren't they? This lake of course is artificial, and the
park was only made out of arable land a hundred years ago. I always
imagine these trees mark some dwelling-house, which has disappeared. They
used to be my chief haunt when I was a boy. There are four of them,
extraordinarily interwoven. I made a seat in one of them. I could see
everything and everybody on the lake, or in the garden; and nobody could
see me. I once overheard a proposal!"

"Eavesdropper!" laughed Helena. "Shall we land?--and go and look at
them?"

She gave a touch to the rudder. Then a shout rang out from the
landing-stage on the other side of the water.

"Ah, that's Geoffrey," said Buntingford. "And I must really get back to
the house--to see people off."

With a little vigorous rowing they were soon across the lake. Helena sat
silent. She did not want Geoffrey--she did not want to reach the
land--she had been happy on the water--why should things end?

* * * * *

Geoffrey reported that all was well with Lady Georgina, she had gone
home, and then stepping into the boat as Buntingford stepped out, he
began to push off.

"Isn't it rather late?" began Helena in a hesitating voice, half rising
from her seat. "I promised Peter a supper dance."

Geoffrey turned to look at her.

"Nobody's gone in to supper yet. Shall I take you back?"

There was something in his voice which meant that this _tete-a-tete_ had
been promised him. Helena resigned herself. But that she would rather