Of the luncheon to which Lady Woodcote had invited him, only one guest had arrived; but, so far as Philip was concerned, that one was sufficient.It was Helen herself, seated alone, with her eyes fixed on the doors opening from Piccadilly.Philip, his heart singing with appeals, blessings, and adoration, ran toward her.
Her profile was toward him, and she could not see him; but he could see her.And he noted that, as though seeking some one, her eyes were turned searchingly upon each young man as he entered and moved from one to another of those already in the lounge.Her expression was eager and anxious.
"If only," Philip exclaimed, "she were looking for me! She certainly is looking for some man.I wonder who it can be?"As suddenly as if he had slapped his face into a wall, he halted in his steps.Why should he wonder? Why did he not read her mind?
Why did he not KNOW? A waiter was hastening toward him.Philip fixed his mind upon the waiter, and his eyes as well.Mentally Philip demanded of him: "Of what are you thinking?"There was no response.And then, seeing an unlit cigarette hanging from Philip's lips, the waiter hastily struck a match and proffered it.Obviously, his mind had worked, first, in observing the half-burned cigarette; next, in furnishing the necessary match.And of no step in that mental process had Philip been conscious! The conclusion was only too apparent.His power was gone.No longer was he a mind reader!
Hastily Philip reviewed the adventures of the morning.As he considered them, the moral was obvious.The moment he had used his power to his own advantage, he had lost it.So long as he had exerted it for the happiness of the two lovers, to save the life of the King, to thwart the dishonesty of a swindler, he had been all-powerful; but when he endeavored to bend it to his own uses, it had fled from him.As he stood abashed and repentant, Helen turned her eyes toward him; and, at the sight of him, there leaped to them happiness and welcome and complete content.It was "the look that never was on land or sea," and it was not necessary to be a mind reader to understand it.Philip sprang toward her as quickly as a man dodges a taxi-cab.
"I came early," said Helen, "because I wanted to talk to you before the others arrived." She seemed to be repeating words already rehearsed, to be following a course of conduct already predetermined."I want to tell you," she said, "that I am sorry you are going away.I want to tell you that I shall miss you very much." She paused and drew a long breath.And she looked at Philip as if she was begging him to make it easier for her to go on.
Philip proceeded to make it easier.
"Will you miss me," he asked, "in the Row, where I used to wait among the trees to see you ride past? Will you miss me at dances, where I used to hide behind the dowagers to watch you waltzing by? Will you miss me at night, when you come home by sunrise, and I am not hiding against the railings of the Carlton Club, just to see you run across the pavement from your carriage, just to see the light on your window blind, just to see the light go out, and to know that you are sleeping?"Helen's eyes were smiling happily.She looked away from him.
"Did you use to do that?" she asked.
