Her eyes wandered to the gay scene of the house and its gardens, with its Watteau-ish groups of young men and maidens, under the night sky, its light and music.

All that had been done, to give her pleasure, by a man who had for years conspicuously shunned society, and whose life in the old country house, before her advent, had been, as she had come to know, of the quietest.

She bent forward again, impulsively: "Cousin Philip!--I'm enjoying this party enormously--it's awfully, awfully good of you--but I don't want you to do it any more--" "Do what, Helena ?" "Please, I can get along without any more week-ends, or parties.

You--you spoil me!" "Well--we're going up to London, aren't we, soon?
But I daresay you're right"-- his tone grew suddenly grave.

"While we dance, there is a terrible amount of suffering going on in the world." "You mean--after the war ?" He nodded.