"Oh, come now, don't tell me that. You two never hit it off together."
Miss Stuart frowned.
"You will oblige me by not discussing the subject," she returned, in a tone so unlike her usual careless, flippant one that her companion was impressed by it. "I like her infinitely better than any woman I have ever known."
"By Jove, I believe you are in earnest!"
"Don't believe anything," she answered sharply, and turning to the man on her left plunged at once into a reckless flirtation.
CHAPTER XIX.
A CABLEGRAM.
The following morning a note came for Helen by a messenger. It was from Lillian Stuart and, without a word of upbraiding for having been kept in ignorance of Helen's presence in town, begged for a visit from her prior to her return to Hetherford. Helen was fully alive to the generous spirit thus shown toward her, but it did not alter her determination to decline the invitation. She worded her answer as kindly as possible, while making her meaning quite clear. It hurt her cruelly to take this step, and as she sealed the envelope there were tears in her eyes.
It was Mrs. Hill's day at home, and when, after luncheon, Eleanor reminded Helen of this fact, the girl pleaded to be excused, for she felt far too depressed and out of sorts to meet people and to exert herself to entertain them. Mrs. Hill indulgently granted her request, and so she put on her hat and coat and started out for a walk. She strolled down a beautiful avenue, lined with fine residences, succeeded, as she proceeded, by richly and gayly ornamented shops. A crowd of people were passing up and down, and the street at times was almost blocked with an innumerable throng of equipages. When Helen had reached a point where this avenue is intersected by another, she crossed the street and entered a square, whose patches of grass and bare trees were a rest to her eyes after the rows of stately buildings all about her. Children were playing about on the smooth paths, and as Helen looked at them she found herself longing for a sight of dear little Gladys' round, chubby face. Across the street, on the block below, a swinging sign caught her attention. Its staring characters told her that an art exhibition was being held within, and she turned her steps in that direction. As she approached the showy and over-ornamented doorway, she glanced up at a man who was coming toward her. Something in his gait and general bearing struck her as familiar. As he gained her side he raised his hat, and she saw that he was Valentine Farr.
"Why, Miss Lawrence," he exclaimed, "this is a very great and unexpected pleasure. I had no idea you were in town. How are you?"
"Oh! very well, thank you, but," with a sympathetic glance at his arm, which she saw he carried in a sling, "have you been hurt, Mr. Farr?"