"These are the woods which the special constables haunt by day and by night.

They gaze up every tree trunk for a wireless installation, and they lie behind hedges and watch for mysterious flashes." "Are you suggesting that we may meet Mr.Lessingham ?" Helen enquired, lazily.

"I am perfectly certain that he knows nothing of the equipment of the melodramatic spy.

As to Zeppelins, don't you remember he told us that he hated them and was terrified of bombs." "My dear," Philippa remonstrated, "Mr.Lessingham does nothing crude." "And yet,--" Helen began.
"Yet I suppose the man has something at the back of his head," Philippa interrupted.

"Sometimes I think that he has, sometimes I believe that Richard must have shown him my picture, and he has come over here to see if I am really like it." "He does behave rather like that," her companion admitted drily.
Phillipa turned and looked at her.
"Helen," she said severely, "don't be a cat." "If I were to express my opinion of your behaviour," Helen went on, picking up a pine cone and examining it, "I might astonish you." "You have an evil mind," Philippa yawned, producing her cigarette case.
"What you really resent is that Mr.Lessingham sometimes forgets to talk about Dick." "The poor man doesn't get much chance," Helen retorted, watching the blue smoke from her cigarette and leaning back with an air of content.
"Whatever do you and he find to talk about, Philippa ?" "Literature--English and German," Philippa murmured demurely.