"You know his reputation?"
"I begin to remember a good deal about him. Go on."
"Well, Helena had asked that man, without consulting me, to stay at my house, and she sprang the announcement on me, on Thursday, the invitation being for Saturday. I had to tell her then and there—that he couldn't come."
"Naturally. How did she take it?"
"Very ill. You see, in a rash moment, I had told her to invite her friends for week-ends as she pleased. So she holds that I have broken faith, and this morning she told me she had arranged to go up and lunch with Donald at the Ritz next week—alone! So again I had to stop it. But I don't play the jailer even decently. I feel the greatest fool in creation." Cynthia smiled.
"I quite believe you! And this all happened in the first twenty-four hours? Poor Philip!"
"And I have also been informed that Helena's 'views' will not allow her—in the future—to take my advice on any such questions—that she prefers her liberty to her reputation—and 'wants to understand a bad man.' She said so. It's all very well to laugh, Cynthia! But what am I to do?"
Cynthia, however, continued to laugh unrestrainedly. And he joined in.
"And now you want advice?" she said at last, checking her mirth. "I'm awfully sorry for you, Philip. What about the little chaperon?"
"As nice a woman as ever was—but I don't see her preventing Helena from doing anything she wants to do. Helena will jolly well take care of that. Besides she is too new to the job."