He flung away. Horne resumed his pacing. He was very sorry for Peter, whose plight was plain to all the world. But it was better he should be warned. As for himself, he too had been under the spell. But he had soon emerged. A philosopher and economist, holding on to Helena's skirts in her rush through the world, would cut too sorry a figure. Besides, could she ever have married him--which was of course impossible, in spite of the courses in Meredith and Modern Literature through which he had taken her--she would have tired of him in a year, by which time both their fortunes would have been spent. For he knew himself to be a spendthrift on a small income, and suspected a similar propensity in Helena, on the grand scale. He returned, therefore, more or less contentedly, to his musings upon an article he was to contribute to _The Market Place_, on "The Influence of Temperament in Economics." The sounds of dance music in the distance made an agreeable accompaniment. Meanwhile a scene--indisputably sentimental--was passing on the lake. Helena and Geoffrey French going down to the water's edge to find a boat, had met halfway with Cynthia Welwyn, in some distress. She had just heard that Lady Georgina had been taken suddenly ill, and must go home. She understood that Mawson was looking after her sister, who was liable to slight fainting attacks at inconvenient moments. But how to find their carriage! She had looked for a servant in vain, and Buntingford was nowhere to be seen. French could do no less than offer to assist; and Helena, biting her lip, despatched him. "I will wait for you at the boathouse." He rushed off, with Cynthia toiling after him, and Helena descended to the lake. As she neared the little landing stage, a boat approached it, containing Buntingford, and two or three of his guests. "Hullo, Helena, what have you done with Geoffrey?" She explained. "We were just coming down for a row." "All right. I'll take you on till he comes. Jump in!" She obeyed, and they were soon halfway towards the further side. But about the middle of the lake Buntingford was seized with belated compunction that he had not done his host's duty to his queer, inarticulate cousin, Lady Georgina. "I suppose I ought to have gone to look after her?" "Not at all," said Helena coolly. "I believe she does it often. She can't want more than Lady Cynthia--_and_ Geoffrey--_and_ Mawson. People shouldn't be pampered!" Her impertinence was so alluring as she sat opposite to him, trailing both hands in the water, that Buntingford submitted. There was a momentary silence. Then Helena said: "Lady Cynthia came to see me the other day. Did you send her?" "Of course. I wanted you to make friends." "That we should never do! We were simply born to dislike each other." "I never heard anything so unreasonable!" said Buntingford warmly. "Cynthia is a very good creature, and can be excellent company." Helena gave a shrug.