And in the pause that followed Helen did not speak.

She knew--it was all that she had time to know--that her silence was expectant only, not ominous.
Consciousness, now, as well as sub-consciousness, seemed rushing to the bolts and bars and windows of the little lodge of friendship, making it secure--if still it might be made secure--against the storm that gathered.

She could not even wonder who Gerald had found.

She had only time for the dreadful task of defence, so that no blast of reality should rush in upon them.
'Well,' said Gerald, and it was now with a little more inquiry and with less serenity, 'I think, perhaps, I've found her.

I think, Helen, that your nice Althea cares about me, you know, and would have me.' Helen sat still, and did not move her eyes from the sky and trees.