So, as they turned
from the rail, she said:
"Come and talk to me instead of practising," and led the way to the
sheltered side where the deck-chairs were stretched in the sun. Rachel
followed her indifferently. Her mind was absorbed by Richard; by the
extreme strangeness of what had happened, and by a thousand feelings of
which she had not been conscious before. She made scarcely any attempt
to listen to what Helen was saying, as Helen indulged in commonplaces to
begin with. While Mrs. Ambrose arranged her embroidery, sucked her silk,
and threaded her needle, she lay back gazing at the horizon.
"Did you like those people?" Helen asked her casually.
"Yes," she replied blankly.
"You talked to him, didn't you?"
She said nothing for a minute.
"He kissed me," she said without any change of tone.
Helen started, looked at her, but could not make out what she felt.
"M-m-m'yes," she said, after a pause. "I thought he was that kind of
man."
"What kind of man?" said Rachel.
"Pompous and sentimental."
"I like him," said Rachel.
"So you really didn't mind?"
For the first time since Helen had known her Rachel's eyes lit up
brightly.
"I did mind," she said vehemently. "I dreamt. I couldn't sleep."
"Tell me what happened," said Helen. She had to keep her lips from
twitching as she listened to Rachel's story. It was poured out abruptly
with great seriousness and no sense of humour.
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