"
"Brute!" said Geoffrey languidly. Then suddenly, as though he had
remembered something, he sat up.
"By the way, Buntingford, I had an adventure yesterday evening--Ah,
here comes Helena! Half the story's mine--and half is hers. So we'll
wait a moment."
The men sprang to their feet. Helena in the freshest of white gowns,
white shoes and a white hat approached, looking preoccupied. Lady Mary
Chance, who was sitting at an open drawing-room window, with a newspaper
she was far too tired to read on her lap, was annoyed to see the general
eagerness with which a girl who occasionally, and horribly said "D--mn!"
and habitually smoked, was received by a group of infatuated males.
Buntingford found the culprit a chair, and handed her a cigarette. The
rest, after greeting her, subsided again on the grass.
"Poor Peter!" said Helena, in a tone of mock pity, turning her eyes to
the sleeping form under the chestnut. "Have I won, or haven't I? I bet
him I would be down first."
"You've lost--of course," said Horne. "Peter was down an hour ago."
"That's not what I meant by 'down.
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