ABSTRACT
The Mansfields’ little flat in College Street had great attraction for Carey. There was an air of restful quiet about its daintily furnished drawing-room, which appealed strongly to some of his restless moods. He liked the old man’s clever easy talk, and Helen’s quiet presence. For Helen he began very soon to have an almost affectionate regard. Reserved, far from brilliant, as she was, there was about her whole personality an air of silent strength which he was quick to feel. He liked her tall, graceful figure (she was considered too thin by most people), her clear, pale face lighted by very softly shining, steady blue eyes, and her coils of flaxen hair. She was almost immediately at home with Carey; and before long, an easy, natural intimacy had sprung up between them, rather to Trelawney’s amusement. ‘Helen’s approval is about the best testimonial you’ll ever get, old man,’ he said once, with a laugh. ‘Make the most of it! Such a dainty, noli me 68 tangere 32 young woman as Helen doesn’t exist! Strangely enough, too,’ he added, confidentially, ‘for she’s anything but a prude – doesn’t go in at all for shrinking ignorance, you understand. She knows good and evil. I’m a little surprised at some of the people she admires and likes – sometimes – they’re not by any means in Mrs. Grundy’s good books.’
