But you and I--both know a man--that would be your match!"
He had moved, so as to stand firmly across the little path that ran
from Helena's seat to the inn. She began to fidget--to drop one foot,
that had been twisted under her, to the ground, as though "on tiptoe
for a flight."
"It's time for supper, Peter. Mrs. Friend will think we're drowned. And I
caught such a beautiful dish of trout yesterday,--all for your benefit!
There's a dear man here who puts on the worms."
"You don't go, till I get an answer, Helena."
"There's nothing to answer. I've no plans. I draw, and fish, and read
poetry. I have some money in the bank; and Cousin Philip will let me
do what I like with it. Lastly--I have another month in which to make
up my mind."
"About what?"
"Goose!--where to go next, of course."
Peter shook his head. His mood was now as determined, as hot in pursuit,
as hers had been, a little earlier.
"I bet you'll have to make up your mind about something much more
important than that--before long. I happened to be--in the Gallery of the
House of Commons yesterday--"
"Improving your mind?"
"Listening to a lot of wild men talking rot about the army.
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