returned to England. Helen murmured ambiguously, and did not commit
herself to one answer rather than to another.

The tea-party, however, included too many different kinds of people
for general conversation to flourish; and from Rachel's point of view
possessed the great advantage that it was quite unnecessary for her to
talk. Over there Susan and Arthur were explaining to Mrs. Paley that an
expedition had been proposed; and Mrs. Paley having grasped the fact,
gave the advice of an old traveller that they should take nice canned
vegetables, fur cloaks, and insect powder. She leant over to Mrs.
Flushing and whispered something which from the twinkle in her eyes
probably had reference to bugs. Then Helen was reciting "Toll for the
Brave" to St. John Hirst, in order apparently to win a sixpence which
lay upon the table; while Mr. Hughling Elliot imposed silence upon his
section of the audience by his fascinating anecdote of Lord Curzon and
the undergraduate's bicycle. Mrs. Thornbury was trying to remember the
name of a man who might have been another Garibaldi, and had written a
book which they ought to read; and Mr. Thornbury recollected that he had
a pair of binoculars at anybody's service. Miss Allan meanwhile murmured
with the curious intimacy which a spinster often achieves with dogs, to
the fox-terrier which Evelyn had at last induced to come over to them.
Little particles of dust or blossom fell on the plates now and then when
the branches sighed above. Rachel seemed to see and hear a little of
everything, much as a river feels the twigs that fall into it and sees
the sky above, but her eyes were too vague for Evelyn's liking. She came
across, and sat on the ground at Rachel's feet.

"Well?" she asked suddenly. "What are you thinking about?"

"Miss Warrington," Rachel replied rashly, because she had to say
something. She did indeed see Susan murmuring to Mrs. Elliot, while
Arthur stared at her with complete confidence in his own love. Both
Rachel and Evelyn then began to listen to what Susan was saying.

"There's the ordering and the dogs and the garden, and the children
coming to be taught," her voice proceeded rhythmically as if checking
the list, "and my tennis, and the village, and letters to write for
father, and a thousand little things that don't sound much; but I never
have a moment to myself, and when I got to bed, I'm so sleepy I'm off
before my head touches the pillow. Besides I like to be a great dea