"The Romney? No! And I've been showing it to everybody as the loveliest thing going!"
"There—you see!"
Helena's face composed itself.
"I don't know why I should be flattered. She was a horrid minx. That no doubt was what the likeness consisted in!"
Mrs. Friend laughed, but said nothing. Helena rose from the grass, pausing to say as she turned towards the house:
"We're going to dance in the drawing-room, Mawson says. They've cleared it."
"Doesn't it look nice?"
Helena assented. "Let me see—" she added slowly—"this is the third dance, isn't it, since I came?"
"Yes—the third."
"I don't think we need have another"—the tone was decided, almost impatient—"at least when this party's over."