"Exactly," he said. "But the prettiest imp imaginable."
"My dear Hubbard, I assure you——"
"My dear Pinsent, you have blundered on the truth."
"But——"
He held up a warning finger. "It occurred a year ago. We lived together for six weeks. Then we compromised. I gave her my house in Park Lane and returned myself to Bruton Street. Pish! man, don't look so shocked. Helen and I are friends—I see her once a week now at least, sometimes more often. I assure you I enjoy her conversation. She has a natural genius for gossip and uses all her opportunities. She has already become a fixed star in the firmament of society's smartest set and aspires to found a new solar system. I allow her fifteen thousand pounds a year. She spends twenty. My compensation is that I am never at a loss for a subject of reflection. We shall call on her this afternoon. A devil, but diverting. You will be amused."
"Do I know her, Hubbard?"
"No; you are merely acquainted. Her maiden name was Arbuthnot."
"Lady Helen Arbuthnot!" I cried.
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "You will find her changed. Marriage has developed her. I remember before you went away—was it to Egypt?—she tried her blandishments on you. But then she was a mere apprentice. Heaven help you now—if she marks you for her victim."
"Poor wretch!" I commented. "I suppose you can't help it. But you ought to make an effort, Hubbard, really."