Helen could
burn with enthusiasm, yet never exposed herself to suspicion of
weak-mindedness. Posturing was her scorn, but no one spoke more
ardently of the things she admired. Her acquaintance with recent
literature was wider than that of anyone Irene had known; she talked
of it in the most interesting way, giving her friend new lights,
inspiring her with a new energy of thought. And Irene was sorry to
go away. She vaguely felt that this companionship was of moment in
the history of her mind; she wished for a larger opportunity of
benefiting by it.
Dr. Derwent and his son were now at Cromer; there Irene was to join
them; and thither, presently, would come Arnold Jacks.
On the day of her departure there arose a storm of wind and rain,
which grew more violent as she approached the Norfolk coast; and
nothing could have pleased her better. Her troubled mood harmonised
with the darkened, roaring sea; moreover, this atmospheric
disturbance made something to talk about on arriving. She suffered
no embarrassment at the meeting with her father and Eustace, who of
course awaited her at the station. To their eyes, Irene was m
excellent spirits, though rather wearied after the tiresome journey.
She said very little about her stay in Hampshire.
The last person in the world with whom Irene would have chosen to
converse about her approaching marriage was her excellent brother
Eustace; but the young man was not content with offering his good
wishes; to her surprise, he took the opportunity of their being
alone together on the beach, to speak with most unwonted warmth
about Arnold Jacks.
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