And Buntingford had charm and character, and imagination.

He could force a girl like Helena to respect him intellectually; with such a nature that was half the battle.

He would be her master in time.

Besides, there were all Philip's endless opportunities of making life agreeable and delightful to her.

When they went to London, for instance, he would come out of the shell he had lived in so long, and Helena would see him as his few intimate friends had always seen him:--as one of the most accomplished and attractive of mortals, with just that touch of something ironic and mysterious in his personality and history, which appeals specially to a girl's fancy.
And what would be the end of it?
Tragedy for Helena ?--as well as bitter disappointment and heartache for himself, Geoffrey French?
He was confident that Helena had in her the capacity for passion; that the flowering-time of such a nature would be one of no ordinary intensity.
She would love, and be miserable--and beat herself to pieces--poor, brilliant Helena!--against her own pain.
What could he do?
Might there not be some chance for himself--_now_--while the situation was still so uncertain and undeveloped?
Helena was still unconscious, unpledged.