“You find him monotonous, I suppose.  But you know—­” He opened the book, and began searching for passages to read aloud, and in a little time he found a good one which he considered suitable.  But there was nothing in the world that bored Ridley more than being read aloud to, and he was besides scrupulously fastidious as to the dress and behaviour of ladies.  In the space of fifteen minutes he had decided against Mrs. Flushing on the ground that her orange plume did not suit her complexion, that she spoke too loud, that she crossed her legs, and finally, when he saw her accept a cigarette that Hewet offered her, he jumped up, exclaiming something about “bar parlours,” and left them.  Mrs. Flushing was evidently relieved by his departure.  She puffed her cigarette, stuck her legs out, and examined Helen closely as to the character and reputation of their common friend Mrs. Raymond Parry.  By a series of little strategems she drove her to define Mrs. Parry as somewhat elderly, by no means beautiful, very much made up—­an insolent old harridan, in short, whose parties were amusing because one met odd people; but Helen herself always pitied poor Mr. Parry, who was understood to be shut up downstairs with cases full of gems, while his wife enjoyed herself in the drawing-room.  “Not that I believe what people say against her—­although she hints, of course—­” Upon which Mrs. Flushing cried out with delight: 

“She’s my first cousin!  Go on—­go on!”

When Mrs. Flushing rose to go she was obviously delighted with her new acquaintances.  She made three or four different plans for meeting or going on an expedition, or showing Helen the things they had bought, on her way to the carriage.  She included them all in a vague but magnificent invitation.

As Helen returned to the garden again, Ridley’s words of warning came into her head, and she hesitated a moment and looked at Rachel sitting between Hirst and Hewet.  But she could draw no conclusions, for Hewet was still reading Gibbon aloud, and Rachel, for all the expression she had, might have been a shell, and his words water rubbing against her ears, as water rubs a shell on the edge of a rock.

Hewet’s voice was very pleasant.  When he reached the end of the period Hewet stopped, and no one volunteered any criticism.

“I do adore the aristocracy!” Hirst exclaimed after a moment’s pause.  “They’re so amazingly unscrupulous.  None of us would dare to behave as that woman behaves.”

“What I like about them,” said Helen as she sat down, “is that they’re so well put together.  Naked, Mrs. Flushing would be superb.  Dressed as she dresses, it’s absurd, of course.”

“Yes,” said Hirst.  A shade of depression crossed his face.  “I’ve never weighed more than ten stone in my life,” he said, “which is ridiculous, considering my height, and I’ve actually gone down in weight since we came here.  I daresay that accounts for the rheumatism.”  Again he jerked his wrist back sharply, so that Helen might hear the grinding of the chalk stones.  She could not help smiling.