The dazzling, the unfair ascendency of youth, as embodied in Helena, had been rather more galling than usual; and the "sittings out" she had arranged with Philip during the supper dances had been all cancelled by her sister's tiresome attack.

Julian Horne, who generally got on with her, chivalrously moved his seat near to her, and tried to talk.

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.