So we'll wait a moment." The men sprang to their feet.

Helena in the freshest of white gowns, white shoes and a white hat approached, looking preoccupied.

Lady Mary Chance, who was sitting at an open drawing-room window, with a newspaper she was far too tired to read on her lap, was annoyed to see the general eagerness with which a girl who occasionally, and horribly said "D--mn!" and habitually smoked, was received by a group of infatuated males.
Buntingford found the culprit a chair, and handed her a cigarette.

The rest, after greeting her, subsided again on the grass.
"Poor Peter!" said Helena, in a tone of mock pity, turning her eyes to the sleeping form under the chestnut.

"Have I won, or haven't I?
I bet him I would be down first." "You've lost--of course," said Horne.