eelings as final--she knew
there had been many pairs of eyes in America and in London, and that
though Philip had seen them, he had not answered them when they spoke.
No, she confessed frankly, she was hurt with herself for neglecting her
old friend so selfishly and for so long a time; his love gave him claims
on her consideration, at least, and she had forgotten that and him, and
had run after strange gods and allowed others to come in and take her
place, and to give him the sympathy and help which she should have been
the first to offer, and which would have counted more when coming from
her than from any one else. She determined to make amends at once
for her thoughtlessness and selfishness, and her brain was pleasantly
occupied with plans and acts of kindness. It was a new entertainment,
and she found she delighted in it. She directed the cabman to go to
Solomons's, and from there sent Philip a bunch of flowers and a line
saying that on the following day she was coming to take tea with him.
She had a guilty feeling that he might consider her friendly advances
more seriously than she meant them, but it was her pleasure to be
reckless: her feelings were running riotously, and the sensation was so
new that she refused to be circumspect or to consider consequences. Who
could tell, she asked herself with a quick, frightened gasp, but that,
after all, it might be that she was learning to care? From Solomons's
she bade the man drive to the shop in Cranbourne Street where she was
accustomed to purchase the materials she used in painting, and Fate,
which uses strange agents to work out its ends, so directed it that
the cabman stopped a few doors below this shop, and opposite one where
jewelry and other personal effects were bought and sold. At any other
time, or had she been in any other mood, what followed might not have
occurred, but Fate, in the person of the cabman, arranged it so that the
hour and the opportunity came together.

There were some old mezzotints in the window of the loan shop, a string
of coins and medals, a row of new French posters; and far down to the
front a tray filled with gold and silver cigarette-cases and watches and
rings. It occurred to Helen, who was still bent on making restitution
for her neglect, that a cigarette-case would be more appropriate for a
man than flowers, and more lasting. And she scanned the contents of
the window with the eye of one who now saw in everything only something
whic