"You don't, Helen? Why not?"
"I don't know why not. But it's true.... She—she makes me feel frightened—somehow. I hope she doesn't come here often. I—I don't think I shall ask her to. Do you—do you mind?"
"Mind, Helen? Why should I mind? If she frightens you she certainly shan't come again." He added, with a fierceness which, somehow, did not strike him as absurd: "I won't let her. Helen—dear Helen, you're unhappy about something—tell me all about it!"
She cried vehemently: "Nothing—nothing—nothing!—Kenneth, I want to learn things—will you teach me?—I'm a ridiculously ignorant person, Kenneth, and some day I shall make you feel ashamed of me if I don't learn a few things more. Will you teach me?"
"My darling. I'll teach you everything in the world. What shall we begin with?"
"Geography. I was looking through some of the exercise-books you had to mark. Do you know, I don't know anything about exports and imports?"
"Neither did I until I had them to teach."
"And you'll teach me?"
"Yes. I'll teach you anything you want to learn. But I don't think we'll have our first lesson until to-morrow. Bedtime now, Helen."
She flung her arms round his neck passionately, offered her lips to his almost with abandonment, and cried, in the low, thrilling voice that seemed so full of unspoken dreads and secrecies: "Oh, Kenneth—Kenneth—you do love me, don't you? You aren't tired of me? You aren't even a little bit dissatisfied, are you?"