But he found her in a rather dry and caustic mood. The ball had
seemed to her "badly managed"; and the guests, outside the house-party,
"an odd set."
Meanwhile, exactly at the hour named by Buntingford, he heard a knock at
the library door. Helena appeared.
She stood just inside the door, looking absurdly young and childish in
her white frock. But her face was grave.
"I thought just now"--she said, almost timidly,--"that you were bored by
my asking you to show us those things. Are you? Please tell me. I didn't
mean to get in the way of anything you were doing."
"Bored! Not in the least. Here they are, all ready for you. Come in."
She saw two or three large portfolios distributed on chairs, and one or
two drawings already on exhibition. Her face cleared.
"Oh, what a heavenly thing!"
She made straight for a large drawing of the Val d'Arno in spring, and
the gap in the mountains that leads to Lucca, taken from some high point
above Fiesole. She knelt down before it in an ecstasy of pleasure.
"Mummy and I were there two years before the war.
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