"I believe he has an heiress in cotton-wool for him at home. I wish my governor was as thoughtful!"
"No doubt he knows that you are quite equal to finding such a treasure for yourself," returned Miss Denis, with a very perceptible touch of sarcasm.
Mr. Quentin laughed rather boisterously. It was new to him to hear sharp speeches from ladies' lips, and now, looking at his watch and rising with a sudden start, he said,—
"I declare I must be going. I had no idea it was so late. I've an appointment (imaginary) at four o'clock, and I've only two minutes. Well," now taking her hand, "and so you are off on Wednesday? I may see you before that, if not, good-bye," holding her fingers with a lingering pressure, and looking down into her eyes as if he felt unutterable regret, quite beyond the reach of words; but in truth he was conscious of nothing, beyond a keen desire to make a happy exit, and to get away respectably (perhaps he had also a lurking craving for a "peg"!). "Good-bye, I hope we shall meet again some day in England. Perhaps you would drop me a line?" a query he had often found to have an excellent and soothing effect at similar partings.
Helen took no notice of the suggestion, but merely bowed her head and said very quietly,—
"Good-bye, Mr. Quentin, good-bye."
And then the gentleman took himself away in exaggerated haste, muttering as he hurried down to the pier,—
"How white she looked, and how stiff she was. I'm hanged if I don't believe she had a weakness for Lisle, after all. If that's the case, this humble, insignificant individual has put a pretty big spoke in her wheel."
It is almost needless to mention that Helen was now accustomed to daily interviews with Mrs. Creery, and to being cross-examined as to how she had been left, whether Mr. Quentin had said "anything," and what she "was going to do with all her coloured dresses?"