you a little about her
life, Mr. Kane.'

'I should be very much obliged if you would,' Franklin murmured, his
thin little face taking on an expression of most intense concentration.
'It would be a great privilege. You know what I feel about Miss Helen.'

'Yes; it's because I know what you feel about her that I want to tell
you,' said Miss Grizel. 'Not that it's anything startling, or anything
you wouldn't have supposed for yourself; but it illustrates my point, I
think, very well, my point that Helen is the type of person we can't
afford to let go under. Has Helen ever spoken to you about her mother?'

'Never,' said Franklin, his intent face expressing an almost ritualistic
receptivity.

'Well, she's a poor creature,' said Miss Buchanan, 'a poor, rubbishy
creature; the most selfish and reckless woman I know. I warned my
brother how it would turn out from the first; but he was infatuated and
had his way, and a wretched way it turned out. She made him miserable,
and she made the children miserable, and she nearly ruined him with her
extravagance; he and I together managed to put things straight, and see
to it that Nigel should come into a property not too much encumbered and
that Helen should inherit a little sum, enough to keep her going--a
little more it was, as a matter of fact, than what I'll be able to leave
her. Well, when my brother died, she was of age and she came into her
modest fortune; for a young girl, with me to back her up, it wasn't
bad. She had hardly seen her mother for three years--they'd always been
at daggers drawn--when one day, up in Scotland, when she was with her
brother--it was before Nigel married--who should appear but Daisy. She
had travelled up there in desperate haste to throw herself on her
children's mercy. She was in terrible straits. She had got into
debt--cards and racing--and she was frightfully involved with some
horror of a man. Her honour was wrecked unless she could pay her debts
and extricate herself. Well, she found no mercy in Nigel; he refused to
give her a farthing. It was Helen who stripped herself of every penny
she possessed and saved her. I don't know whether she touched Helen's
pity, or whether it was mere family pride; the thought of the horror of
a man was probably a strong motive too. All Helen ever said about it to
me was, "How could I bear to see her like that?" So, she ruined herself.
Of course after that it was more than ever necessary that she should
marry. I