"Dear Helen. We all expect so much of her that I'm sure it makes her try to live up to our ideals." There was a slight uneasiness in the air on the evening when Mrs. Greene asked brightly: "And where are you two thinking of for your honeymoon?" Helen looked up from some patterns of shot silk that she was considering. "Oh, the Hague I think," she said casually. "There are some moderns there that I rather want to see, and some quite good old stuff too, I believe." "Oh really. Yes, that would be very nice I suppose. But of course it's a big town. Don't you think Geoffrey would be happier among beautiful scenery? The Italian lakes, perhaps, or mountains if you want to be energetic." "I don't know, I'm sure." Helen shrugged her shoulders. "Would you be happier with scenery, Geoffrey?" "I think I'd like the Hague," he said. "For a week or so, anyhow, and then we can move on." "You know, dear," said Mrs. Greene reasonably, "your interest in pictures is a very specialised thing. You mustn't expect Geoffrey to feel quite as you do about them. I don't think he knows very much about art." Helen's face was grim. "He doesn't," she answered, "but he'll learn." And her mouth shut ominously. Mrs. Greene got up discreetly and murmuring something about dressing for dinner, went upstairs. "Darling," said Geoffrey. "Mother thinks we are now about to quarrel fiercely, but we aren't, are we?" "Of course not. I don't mind your not knowing anything about painting so long as you don't mind my concentrating on it a good deal." "You know I don't. Tell me, Helen, is all this business driving you to frenzy?" "No, not a bit. I think it's frightfully obscene, dressing up in white satin and being handed over to you at a given moment, but I can easily cope with it. Isn't there something about 'straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel'?" "And I'm the camel," said Geoffrey sullenly. "Yes, you are," Helen answered calmly. "And you understand the position perfectly well. You know I am marrying you quite reluctantly for the simple reason that I love you to distraction." Geoffrey's face cleared. "I am a fool," he said. "It's quite all right, Helen, and you're being marvellously good about all this sickening detail." Helen shook her head. "It's your mother who's marvellous," she said. "She really is a masterpiece. I've never seen anything so well done as her pose. She is so affectionate and maternal that anyone would think she was delighted with me. In fact she's almost coy, and yet she can't help disapproving of almost everything I say or do." "No, that isn't true; she's approved of you quite a lot lately." "Oh well, perhaps she has, but only because I have given way about all sorts of conventional details that go quite against the grain with me." "Why have you, darling," Geoffrey asked curiously.