The star in Helena's hair glittered in the light, and the face beneath it, robbed of its daylight colour, had become a study in black and white, subtler and more lovely than the real Helena.
"Why did you do it, Helena ?" said Peter suddenly.
"Do what ?" "Why did you behave to me as you did, at the Arts Ball?
Why did you cut me, not once--but twice--three times--for that _beast_ Donald ?" Helena laughed.
"Now _you're_ beginning!" she said, as she lazily trailed her hand in the water.

"It's really comic!" "What do you mean ?" "Only that I've already quarrelled with Cousin Philip--and Geoffrey--about Lord Donald--so if you insist on quarrelling too, I shall have no friends left." "Damn Donald! It's like his impudence to ask you to dance at all.

It made me sick to see you with him.

He's the limit.

Well, but--I'm not going to quarrel about Donald, Helena--I'm not going to quarrel about anything.
I'm going to have my own say--and you can't escape this time--you witch!" Helena looked round the pond.
"I can swim," she said tranquilly.
"I should jump in after you--and we'd both go down together.