You see, I didn't know that I was marrying a sort of sporting Mr.Skimpole." "I wonder," Helen reflected, "how Henry and Mr.Lessingham will get on when they see more of one another." "I really don't care," Philippa observed indifferently.
"I used to notice sometimes--that was soon after you were married," Helen continued, "that Henry was just a little inclined to be jealous." Philippa withdrew her eyes from the sea.

There was a queer little smile upon her lips.
"Well, if he still is," she said, "I'll give him something to be jealous about." "Poor Mr.Lessingham!" Helen murmured.
Philippa's eyebrows were raised.
"Poor Mr.Lessingham ?" she repeated.

"I don't think you'll find that he'll be in the least sorry for himself." "He may be in earnest," Helen reminded her friend.

"You can be horribly attractive when you like, you know, Philippa." Philippa smiled sweetly.
"It is just possible," she said, "that I may be in earnest myself.

I've quarrelled pretty desperately with Henry, you know, and I'm a helpless creature without a little admiration." Helen rose suddenly to her feet.