Just before dinner, while they were standing together in the corridor, the girl came toward them on her way to the dining room. Helen laid her hand impulsively on her lover's arm.
"Please look, Guy," she whispered. "Here she comes. Isn't she beautiful? Why, Guy," excitedly, "do you know her? She is bowing to you."
"Is that the woman you mean?" he asked, when he had gravely returned her bow.
"Why, yes. Where did you ever know her?"
"I met her at Baden, when I was over there."
"How strange," said Helen musingly. "Why did you never tell me about her?"
"Because I never liked her," he replied with decision, "and I trust you and she will not meet."
A curiously unaccountable feeling of resentment swept across Helen.
"I don't suppose there is much chance of it," she returned coldly.
It is the unexpected that happens; for one afternoon, only a few days later, as Helen stood talking with some friends on the broad hotel veranda, Miss Stuart joined the group and, before Helen had hardly appreciated the situation, an introduction had ensued.