"Delighted to see you,"—shaking her vigorously by the hand. "And how long have you been in town?"
"Nearly two months."
"I need not ask you how you are?"—Yes, to himself, she was getting back her looks—"And where are you staying?"
"With my aunt—in Upper Cream Street."
"Upper Cream Street!" he echoed, with increased respect in his tone, and a look of faint surprise in his dreamy blue eyes. "Then I shall certainly make a point of coming to see you.—What is your number?"
"Thank you, very much; but I am leaving on Monday—(this was Saturday)—and," looking him bravely in the face, she added, "I am going to a situation. I am going out as a governess."
Mr. Quentin was somewhat disconcerted by this rather blunt announcement, but he did not lose his presence of mind, and said in his most airy manner,—
"Oh, really!—well, then, on another occasion I may hope to be more fortunate—during the holidays, perhaps?" glancing interrogatively at Clara Platt, who returned his gaze with a stare of dull phlegmatic hauteur, implying an utter repudiation of her cousin, and all her concerns.
Turning once more to Helen, he said,—
"Heard any news from Port Blair?"