though Hirst detects a gouty tendency. Well, then, I think I'm very intelligent." He paused as if for confirmation.
Helen agreed.
"Though, unfortunately, rather lazy. I intend to allow Rachel to be a fool if she wants to, and—Do you find me on the whole satisfactory in other respects?" he asked shyly.
"Yes, I like what I know of you," Helen replied. "But then—one knows so little."
"We shall live in London," he continued, "and—" With one voice they suddenly enquired whether she did not think them the happiest people that she had ever known.
"Hush," she checked them, "Mrs. Flushing, remember. She's behind us."
Then they fell silent, and Terence and Rachel felt instinctively that their happiness had made her sad, and, while they were anxious to go on talking about themselves, they did not like to.
"We've talked too much about ourselves," Terence said, "Tell us"
"Yes, tell us—" Rachel echoed. They were both in the mood to believe that every one was capable of saying something very profound.
"What can I tell you?" Helen reflected, speaking more to herself in a rambling style than as a prophetess delivering a message. She forced herself to speak.
"After all, though I scold Rachel, I'm not much wiser myself. I'm older, of course, I'm half-way through, and you're just beginning. It's puzzling—sometimes, I think, disappointing; the great things aren't as great, perhaps, as one expects—but it's interesting—Oh, yes you're certain to find it interestingAnd so it goes on," they became conscious here of the procession of dark trees into which, as far as they could see, Helen was now looking, "and there are pleasures where one doesn't expect them (you must write to your father), and you'll be very happy, I've no doubt. But I must go to bed, and if you are sensible you will follow in ten minutes, and so," she rose and stood before them, almost featureless and very large, "Good-night." She passed behind the curtain.
After sitting in silence for the greater part of the ten minutes
