"No. I know you didn't," said Helena serenely; "but you might have--and he isn't innocent a bit. He's as complex as you make 'em. Most women are in love with him, except me!" The brown eyes stared meditatively out of window. "I suppose I could be if I tried. But he doesn't attract me. He's too old." "Old?" repeated Mrs. Friend, with astonishment. "Well, I don't mean he's decrepit! But he's forty-four if he's a day--more than double my age. Did you notice that he's a little lame?" "No!" "He is. It's very slight--an accident, I believe--somewhere abroad. But they wouldn't have him for the Army, and he was awfully cut up. He used to come and sit with Mummy every day and pour out his woes. I suppose she was the only person to whom he ever talked about his private affairs--he knew she was safe. Of course you know he is a widower?" Mrs. Friend knew nothing. But she was vaguely surprised. "Oh, well, a good many people know that--though Mummy always said she never came across anybody who had ever seen his wife. He married her when he was quite a boy---abroad somewhere--when there seemed no chance of his ever being Lord Buntingford--he had two elder brothers who died--and she was an art student on her own. An old uncle of Mummy's once told me that when Cousin Philip came back from abroad--she died abroad--after her death, he seemed altogether changed somehow. But he never, _never_ speaks of her"--the girl swayed her slim body backwards and forwards for emphasis--"and I wouldn't advise you or anybody else to try. Most people think he's just a bachelor. I never talk about it to people--Mummy said I wasn't to--and as he was very nice to Mummy--well, I don't. But I thought you'd better know. And now I think we'd better dress." But instead of moving, she looked down affectionately at her uniform and her neat brown leggings. "What a bore! I suppose I've no right to them any more." "What is your uniform?" "Women Ambulance Drivers. Don't you know the hostel in Ruby Square? I bargained with Cousin Philip after Mummy's death I should stay out my time, till I was demobbed. Awfully jolly time I had--on the whole--though the girls were a mixed lot. Well--let's get a move on." She sprang up. "Your room's next door." Mrs. Friend was departing when Helena enquired: "By the way--have you ever heard of Cynthia Welwyn?" Mrs. Friend turned at the door, and shook her head. "Oh, well, I can tot her up very quickly--just to give you an idea--as she's coming to dinner. She's fair and forty--just about Buntingford's age--quite good-looking--quite clever--lives by herself, reads a great deal--runs the parish--you know the kind of thing. They swarm! I think she would like to marry Cousin Philip, if he would let her."