Travers stood where she had left him. He heard the sharp imperative whistle for a cab. The jingle of harness followed almost immediately; there was a dance at the opposite house in the Square—he remembered seeing the row of hansoms waiting, as they drove up. A moment later, he stood, his head thrust forward, listening mechanically to the beat of horses’ hoofs on the frosty road.
CHAPTER X
The Mansfields’ little flat in College Street had great attraction for Carey. There was an air of restful quiet about its daintily furnished drawing-room, which appealed strongly to some of his restless moods. He liked the old man’s clever, easy talk, and Helen’s quiet presence. For Helen he began very soon to have an almost affectionate regard. Reserved, far from brilliant, as she was, there was about her whole personality an air of silent strength which he was quick to feel. He liked her tall, graceful figure, (she was considered too thin by most people,) her clear pale face lighted by very softly shining, steady blue eyes, and her coils of flaxen hair. She was almost immediately at home with Carey; and before long an easy natural intimacy had sprung up between them, rather to Trelawney’s amusement. “Helen’s approval is about the best testimonial you’ll ever get, old man,” he said once, with a laugh. “Make the most of it! Such a dainty, noli me tangere young woman as Helen doesn’t exist! Strangely enough, too,” he added, confidentially, “for she’s anything but a prude—doesn’t go in at all for shrinking ignorance, you understand. She knows good and evil. I’m a little surprised at some of the people she admires and likes—sometimes—they’re not by any means in Mrs. Grundy’s good books.”
“I didn’t know that Mrs. Grundy was a judge of character,” Carey remarked.
“Well, no—but a woman, you know.”
“My dear Jim, you’re still sojourning in the tents of the Philistines,” said Carey, with a laugh. “Remember that the former things are passed away—this is the age of the New Woman!”
“Has one ever a chance of forgetting it? Helen’s not one of the sisterhood, though, thank Heaven!”
“She is, and a particularly engaging member,” Carey replied, calmly.
He had called one afternoon, rather late, after a hard day’s work. Helen rose from a low couch drawn close to the fire, as he entered, and came across the room to meet him.
“Mr. Carey! I’m so glad to see you,” she said, in her gentle fashion, with a touch of cordiality in her voice which she reserved for welcome guests.