There is a thoroughly British squirrel in that tree overhead, and I am sure he heard." "I suppose the sunshine has got into your head," Helen groaned.
"If you mean that I am finding it a relief to talk nonsense, you are right," Philippa assented.

"As a matter of fact, I am feeling most depressed.

Henry telephoned from somewhere or other before breakfast this morning, to say that he should probably be home to-night or to-morrow.

They must have landed somewhere down the coast." "You are a most undutiful wife," Helen pronounced severely.

"I am sure Henry is a delightful person, even if he is a little irresponsible, and it is almost pathetic to remember how much you were in love with him, a year or two ago." Some of the lightness vanished from Philippa's face.
"That was before the war," she sighed.
"I still think Henry is a dear, though I don't altogether understand him," Helen said thoughtfully.
"No doubt," Philippa assented, "but you'd find the not understanding him a little more galling, if you were his wife.