Chapter 14
In the garden of tall rose trees and nasturtiums Helena was again waiting. It was past nine o'clock, so she was growing impatient. To herself, however, she professed a great interest in a little book of verses she had bought in St Martin's Lane for twopence.
A late, harsh blackbird smote him with her wings,
As through the glade, dim in the dark, she flew….
So she read. She made a curious, pleased sound, and remarked to herself that she thought these verses very fine. But she watched the road for Siegmund.
And now she takes the scissors on her thumb …
Oh then, no more unto my lattice come.
'H'm!' she said, 'I really don't know whether I like that or not.'
Therefore she read the piece again before she looked down the road.
'He really is very late. It is absurd to thin
