"What any other man in my position would have been doing--wishing to Heaven I knew _what_ to do!" said Peter, still poking vigorously at the moss. Helena bent forward from the oak tree, and just whispered--"Go back to-morrow, Peter,--and propose to Jenny Dumbarton!" Peter could not trust himself to look up at what he knew must be the smiling seduction of her eyes and lips. He was silent; and Helena withdrew--dryad-like--into the hollow made by the intertwined stems of the oak, threw her head back against the main trunk, dropped her eyelids, and waited. "Are you asleep, Helena?" said Peter's voice at last. "Not at all." "Then sit up, please, and listen to me." She obeyed. Peter was standing over her, his hands on his sides, looking very manly, and rather pale. "Having disposed of me for the last six months--you may as well dispose of me altogether," he said slowly. "Very well--I will go--and propose to Jenny Dumbarton---the day after to-morrow. Her people asked me for the week-end. I gave a shuffling answer. I'll wire to her to-morrow that I'm coming--" "Peter--you're a darling!" cried Helena in delight, clapping her hands. "_Oh_!--I wish I could see Jenny's face when she opens the wire! You'll be very good to her, Peter?" She looked at him searchingly, stirred by one of the sudden tremors that beset even the most well-intentioned match-maker. Peter smiled, with a rather twisted lip, straightening his shoulders. "I shouldn't ask any girl to marry me, that I couldn't love and honour, not even to please you, Helena! And she knows all about you!" "She doesn't!" said Helena, in consternation. "Yes, she does. I don't mean to say that I've told her the exact number of times you've refused me. But she knows quite enough. She'll take me--if she does take me--with her eyes open. Well, now that's settled!--But you interrupted me. There's one condition, Helena!" "Name it." She eyed him nervously. --"That in return for managing my life, you give me some indication of how you're going to manage your own!" Helena fell back on the bilberry stalk, to gain time. --"Because--" resumed Peter--"it's quite clear the Beechmark situation is all bust up. Philip's got an idiot-boy to look after--with Cynthia Welwyn in constant attendance. I don't see any room for you there, Helena!" "Neither do I," said Helena, quietly. "You needn't tell me that." "Well, then, what are you going to do?" "You forget, Peter, that I possess the dearest and nicest little chaperon. I can roam the world where I please--without making any scandals." "You'll always make scandals--" "_Scandals_, Peter!" protested Helena. "Well, victories, wherever you go--unless somebody has you pretty tightly in hand. But you and I--both know a man--that would be your match!"