uld any
girl desire? He would give her everything that made life worth living.
Indeed, if the truth must be told, she was phenomenally lucky.
Thus did she strive to silence misgivings, to quell doubt, to order
and regulate a blurred medley of subconscious thought. While laughing,
and talking, and making the most successful efforts to be at ease
with the dozens of people who came and spoke to Mrs. de la Vere and
herself, she felt like some frail vessel dancing blithely in a swift,
smooth current, yet hastening ever to the verge of a cataract.
Once Bower approached, skillfully piloting Mrs. Badminton-Smythe; for
Reginald, tiring of the role thrust on him by his wife, had gone to
play bridge. It was his clear intent to take Helen from her chaperon.
"It is still snowing, though not so heavily," he said. "Come on the
veranda, and look at the landscape. The lake is a pool of ink in the
middle of a white table cloth."
"The snow will be far more visible in the morning, and we have a lot
of ice to melt here," interposed Mrs. de la Vere quickly.
The man and woman, both well versed in the ways of society, looked
each other squarely in the eye. Though disappointed, the man
understood, was even appreciative.
"Miss Wynton is fortunate in her friends," he said, and straightway
went to the writing room. He felt that Helen was safe with this
unexpected ally. He could afford to bide his time. Nothing could now
undo the effect of his open declaration while flouting Millicent
Jaques. If he gave that wayward young person a passing thought, it was
one of gladness that she had precipitated matters. There remained only
an unpleasant meeting with Stampa in the morning. He shuddered at the
recollection that he had nearly done a foolish thing while crossing
the crevasse. What sinister influence could have so weakened his
nerve as to make him think of murder? Crime was the last resource of
impaired intellect. He was able to laugh now at the stupid memory of
it.
True, the American----
By the way, what did Millicent mean by her shrewish cry that Spencer
was paying for Helen's holiday? So engrossed was he in other
directions that his early doubts with regard to "The Firefly's"
unprecedented enterprise in sending a representative to this
out-of-the-way Swiss valley had been lulled to sleep. Of course, he
had caused certain inquiries to be made--that was his method. One of
the telegrams he dispatched from Zurich after Helen's train bu
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