They all scattered after breakfast, but Miss Farrow noticed that Varick made a determined and successful attempt to carry off Helen Brabazon from Sir Lyon, who had obviously been lying in wait for her.
"What dogs in the manger men are!" she said to herself. And then she remembered, with a little gasp of dismay, her mysterious appointment with Mark Gifford. She knew him well enough to be sure that he would be in good time; but, even so, there was more than an hour to be got through somehow before she could start for Darnaston.
She went up to Bubbles' room. Yes, the girl looked marvellously better—younger too, quite different!
There came a knock at the door while she was there, and Donnington came in.
"If you'd been wise," said Bubbles, looking up at him, "you'd have made up to Helen Brabazon, Bill. She's like an apple, just ready to fall off the tree."
"What do you mean?" asked Blanche.
"Just what I say. She's tremendously in love with love!"
"D'you really think so?"
(If so, Sir Lyon's task would be an easy one.)
"I know it," said Bubbles positively. "I've made a close study of that girl. I confess I didn't like her at first, and I will tell you why, though I know it will shock Bill."