"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." "I've always liked Miss Brabazon," he said stoutly, "why didn't you like her, Bubbles?" "Because when she arrived here I saw that she was in love with Lionel Varick." "Don't talk nonsense," said her aunt reprovingly. "You know I don't like that sort of joking." And as for Bill, he turned and walked towards the door. "I've got some letters to write," he said crossly. "Don't go away, Bill. It isn't a joke, Blanche--and I'm going really to shock _you_ now--unless, of course, you're only pretending to be shocked?" "What d'you mean?" said Blanche. "I think Helen fell in love with Lionel Varick before his wife died." Bill said sharply: "I won't have you say such disgusting things, Bubbles!" And he did indeed look disgusted. "What a queer mind you've got," said Bubbles reprovingly. "I mean, of course, in quite a proper way; that is, without the poor girl knowing anything about it. But I thing _he_ knew it right enough." Blanche remained silent. Bubbles' words were making her feel curiously uneasy. They threw a light on certain things which had puzzled her. "Lionel Varick marked her down long ago," went on Bubbles slowly. "On the evening that she arrived I saw that he had quite made up his mind to marry her. But as the days went on I began to hope that he wouldn't succeed." She uttered these last words very, very seriously. Her aunt looked at her, surprised at the feeling she threw into her voice. As for Donnington, he was staring at her dumbly and, yes, angrily. At last he said: "And why shouldn't Varick marry her, if they both like one another?" "You wouldn't understand if I were to tell you. You're too stupid and too good to understand." Donnington felt very much put out. He did not mind being called stupid, but what on earth did Bubbles mean by saying he was too good?