“So charming?” suggested Geoffrey, springing to his feet.  “Very well, Helena!—­then if Philip is really nothing more to you than your guardian, and your very good friend—­why not give some one else a chance?”

He bent over her, his kind, clever face aglow with the feeling he could no longer conceal.  Their eyes met—­Helena’s at first resentful, scornful even—­then soft.  She too stood up, and put out a pair of protesting hands—­“Please—­please, Geoffrey,—­don’t.”

“Why not—­you angel!” He possessed himself of one of the hands and made her move with him along the avenue, looking closely into her eyes.  “You must know what I feel!  I wanted to speak to you last night, but you tricked me.  I just adore you, Helena!  I’ve got quite good prospects—­I’m getting on in the House of Commons—­and I would work for you day and night!”

“You didn’t adore me a month ago!” said Helena, a triumphant little smile playing about her mouth.  “How you lectured me!”

“For you highest good,” he said, laughing; though his heart beat to suffocation.  “Just give me a word of hope, Helena!  Don’t turn me down, at once.”

“Then you mustn’t talk nonsense,” she said vehemently, withdrawing her hand.  “I don’t want to be engaged!  I don’t want to be married!  Why can’t I be let alone?”

Geoffrey had turned a little pale.  In the pause that followed he fell back on a cigarette for consolation.  “Why can’t you be let alone?” he said at last.  “Why?—­because—­you’re Helena!”

“What a stupid answer!” she said contemptuously.  Then, with one of her quick changes, she came near to him again.  “Geoffrey!—­it’s no good pressing me—­but don’t be angry with me, there’s a dear.  Just be my friend and help me!”

She put a hand on his arm, and the face that looked into his would have bewitched a stone.

“That’s a very old game, Helena.  ’Marry you?  Rather not! but you may join the queue of rejected ones if you like.’”

A mischievous smile danced in Helena’s eyes.

“None of them can say I don’t treat them nicely!”

“I daresay.  But I warn you I shan’t accept the position for long.  I shall begin again.”

“Well, but not yet!—­not for a long time,” she pleaded.  Then she gave a little impatient stamp, as she walked beside him.

“I tell you—­I don’t want to be bound.  I won’t be bound!  I want to be free.”

“So you said—­a propos of Philip,” he retorted drily.

He saw the shaft strike home—­the involuntary dropping of the eyelids, the soft catch in the breath.  But she rallied quickly.

“That was altogether different!  You had no business to say that, Geoffrey.”

“Well, then, forgive me—­and keep me quiet—­just—­just one kiss, Helena!”

The last passionate words were hardly audible.  They had passed into the deepest shadow of the avenue.  No one was visible in all its green length.  They stood ensiled by summer; the great trees mounting guard.  Helena threw a glance to right and left.