In the first place, since her Dansworth adventure, Helena had found something to do to think about other than quarrelling with "Cousin Philip." Her curiosity as to how the two wounded police, whom she had driven to the County Hospital that day, might be faring had led to her going over there two or three times a week, either to relieve an overworked staff, or to drive convalescent soldiers, still under treatment in the wards.
The occupation had been a godsend to her, and everybody else.

She still talked revolution, and she was always ready to spar with Lord Buntingford, or other people.

But all the same Lucy Friend was often aware of a much more tractable temper, a kind of hesitancy--and appeasement--which, even if it passed away, made her beauty, for the moment, doubly attractive.
Was it, after all, the influence of Lord Buntingford--and was the event justifying her mother's strange provision for her?
He had certainly treated her with a wonderful kindness and indulgence.

Of late he had returned to his work at the Admiralty, only coming down to Beechmark for long week-ends from Friday to Monday.

But in these later week-ends he had gradually abandoned the detached and half-sarcastic attitude which he had originally assumed towards Helena, and it seemed to Lucy Friend that he was taking his function towards her with a new seriousness.