After that night great-stepuncle James became more than a celebrity--he
became a notoriety in Bursley. Had it not been for the personal
influence of Mrs. Prockter with the editor of the _Signal_, James's
exploits upon the concertina under weeping willows at midnight would
have received facetious comment in the weekly column of gossip that
appears in the great daily organ of the Five Towns on Saturdays. James,
aided by nothing but a glass or two of champagne, had suddenly stepped
into the forefront of the town's life. He was a card. He rather liked
being a card.

But within his own heart the triumph and glory of James Ollerenshaw were
less splendid than outside it. Helen, apparently ashamed of having wept
into his waistcoat, kept him off with a kind of a rod of stiff
politeness. He could not get near her, and for at least two reasons he
was anxious to get near her. He wanted to have that frank, confidential
talk with her about the general imbecility of her adorer, Emanuel
Prockter--that talk which he had failed to begin on the morning when
she had been so sympathetic concerning his difficulties in collecting a
large income. Her movements from day to day were mysterious. Facts
pointed to the probability that she and Emanuel were seeing each other
with no undue publicity. And yet, despite facts, despite her behaviour
at the party, he could scarcely believe that shrewd Helen had not
pierced the skin of Emanuel and perceived the emptiness therein. At any
rate, Emanuel had not repeated his visit to the house. The only visitors
had been Sarah Swetnam and her sister Lilian, the fiancée of Andrew
Dean. The chatter of the three girls had struck James as being almost
hysterically gay. But in the evening Helen was very gloomy, and he
fancied a certain redness in her eyes. Though Helen was assuredly the