I shall never know。'
The little model's face wore a half…caught…out； half…stolid look。
〃Please go in；〃 Bianca said； 〃my father will be glad to see you。〃
She held the garden gate open for the girl to pass through。 Her feeling at that moment was one of slight amusement at the futility of her journey。 Not even this small piece of generosity was permitted her； it seemed。
〃How are you getting on？〃
The little model made an impulsive movement at such an unexpected question。 Checking it at once； she answered：
〃Very well； thank you； that is； not very…〃
〃You will find my father tired to…day； he has caught a chill。 Don't let him read too much； please。〃
The little model seemed to try and nerve herself to make some statement； but； failing； passed into the house。
Bianca did not follow； but stole back into the garden； where the sun was still falling on a bed of wallflowers at the far end。 She bent down over these flowers till her veil touched them。 Two wild bees were busy there； buzzing with smoky wings； clutching with their black； tiny legs at the orange petals； plunging their black； tiny tongues far down into the honeyed centres。 The flowers quivered beneath the weight of their small dark bodies。 Bianca's face quivered too； bending close to them； nor making the slightest difference to their hunt。
Hilary； who； it has been seen； lived in thoughts about events rather than in events themselves； and to whom crude acts and words had little meaning save in relation to what philosophy could make of them； greeted with a startled movement the girl's appearance in the corridor outside Mr。 Stone's apartment。 But the little model； who mentally lived very much from hand to mouth； and had only the philosophy of wants； acted differently。 She knew that for the last five days； like a spaniel dog shut away from where it feels it ought to be； she had wanted to be where she was now standing； she knew that； in her new room with its rust…red doors； she had bitten her lips and fingers till blood came； and； as newly caged birds will flutter； had beaten her wings against those walls with blue roses on a yellow ground。 She remembered how she had lain； brooding； on that piece of red and yellow tapestry； twisting its tassels； staring through half…closed eyes at nothing。
There was something different in her look at Hilary。 It had lost some of its childish devotion； it was bolder； as if she had lived and felt； and brushed a good deal more down off her wings during those few days。
〃Mrs。 Dallison told me to come；〃 she said。 〃I thought I might。 Mr。 Creed told me about him being in prison。〃
Hilary made way for her； and； following her into Mr。 Stone's presence； shut the door。
〃The truant has returned；〃 he said。
Hearing herself called so unjustly by that name； the little model gushed deeply； and tried to speak。 She stopped at the smile on Hilary's face； and gazed from him to Mr。 Stone and back again； the victim of mingled feelings。
Mr。 Stone was seen to have risen to his feet； and to be very slowly moving towards his desk。 He leaned both arms on his papers for support； and； seeming to gather strength； began sorting out his manuscript。
Through the open window the distant music of a barrel…organ came drifting in。 Faint； and much too slow； was the sound of the waltz it played； but there was invitation； allurement； in that tune。 The little model turned towards it； and Hilary looked hard at her。 The girl and that sound together…there； quite plain； was the music he had heard for many days； like a man lying with the touch of fever on him。
〃Are you ready？〃 said Mr。 Stone。
The little model dipped her pen in ink。 Her eyes crept towards the door； where Hilary was still standing with the same expression on his face。 He avoided her eyes； and went up to Mr。 Stone。
〃Must you read to…day； sir？〃
Mr。 Stone looked at him with anger。
〃Why not？〃 he said。
〃You are hardly strong enough。〃
Mr。 Stone raised his manuscript。
〃We are three days behind；〃 and very slowly he began dictating： 〃'Bar…ba…rous ha…bits in those days； such as the custom known as War… '〃 His voice died away； it was apparent that his elbows； leaning on the desk； alone prevented his collapse。
Hilary moved the chair； and； taking him beneath the arms； lowered him gently into it。
Noticing that he was seated； Mr。 Stone raised his manuscript and read on： 〃'…were pursued regardless of fraternity。 It was as though a herd of horn…ed cattle driven through green pastures to that Gate； where they must meet with certain dissolution； had set about to prematurely gore and disembowel each other； out of a passionate devotion to those individual shapes which they were so soon to lose。 So mentribe against tribe； and country against countryglared across the valleys with their ensanguined eyes； they could not see the moonlit wings； or feel the embalming airs of brotherhood。'〃
Slower and slower came his sentences； and as the last word died away he was heard to be asleep； breathing through a tiny hole left beneath the eave of his moustache。 Hilary； who had waited for that moment； gently put the manuscript on the desk； and beckoned to the girl。 He did not ask her to his study； but spoke to her in the hall。
〃While Mr。 Stone is like this he misses you。 You will come； then； at present； please； so long as Hughs is in prison。 How do you like your room？〃
The little model answered simply： 〃Not very much。〃
〃Why not？〃
〃It's lonely there。 I shan't mind； now I'm coming here again。〃
〃Only for the present；〃 was all Hilary could find to say。
The little model's eyes were lowered。
〃Mrs。 Hughs' baby's to be buried to…morrow；〃 she said suddenly。
〃Where？〃
〃In Brompton Cemetery。 Mr。 Creed's going。〃
〃What time is the funeral？〃
The girl looked up stealthily。
〃Mr。 Creed's going to start at half…past nine。〃
〃I should like to go myself；〃 said Hilary。
A gleam of pleasure passing across her face was instantly obscured behind the cloud of her stolidity。 Then； as she saw Hilary move nearer to the door； her lip began to droop。
〃Well； good…bye；〃 he said。
The little model flushed and quivered。 'You don't even look at me；' she seemed to say； 'you haven't spoken kindly to me once。' And suddenly she said in a hard voice：
〃Now I shan't go to Mr。 Lennard's any more。〃
〃Oh； then you have been to him！〃
Triumph at attracting his attention； fear of what she had admitted； supplication； and a half…defiant shameall this was in her face。
〃Yes；〃 she said。
Hilary did not speak。
〃I didn't care any more when you told me I wasn't to come here。〃
Still Hilary did not speak。
〃I haven't done anything wrong；〃 she said； with tears in her voice。
〃No； no；〃 said Hilary； 〃of course not！〃
The little model choked。
〃It's my profession。〃
〃Yes； yes；〃 said Hilary； 〃it's all right。〃
〃I don't care what he thinks； I won't go again so long as I can come here。〃
Hilary touched her shoulder。
〃Well； well；〃 he said； and opened the front door。
The little model； tremulous； like' a flower kissed by the sun after rain； went out with a light in her eyes。
The master of the house returned to Mr。 Stone。 Long he sat looking at the old man's slumber。 〃A thinker meditating upon action！〃 So might Hilary's figure； with its thin face resting on its hand； a furrow between the brows； and that painful smile； have been entitled in any catalogue of statues。
CHAPTER XXX
FUNERAL OF A BABY
Following out the instinct planted so deeply in human nature for treating with the utmost care and at great expense when dead those； who； when alive； have been served with careless parsimony； there started from the door of No。 1 in Hound Street a funeral procession of three four…wheeled cabs。 The first bore the little coffin； on which lay a great white wreath （gift of Cecilia and Thyme）。 The second bore Mrs。 Hughs； her son Stanley； and Joshua Creed。 The third bore Martin Stone。 In the first cab Silence was presiding with the scent of lilies over him who in his short life had made so little noise； the small grey shadow which had crept so quietly into being； and； taking his chance when he was not noticed； had crept so quietly out again。 Never had he felt so restful； so much at home； as in that little common coffin； washed as he was to an unnatural whiteness； and wrapped in his mother's only spare sheet。 Away from all the strife of men he was Journeying to a greater peace。 His little aloe…plant had flowered； and； between the open windows of the only carriage he had ever been inside； the windwhich； who knows？ he had perhaps becomestirred the fronds of fern and the flowers of his funeral wreath。 Thus he was going from that world where all men were his brothers。
》From the second cab the same wind was rigidly excluded； and there was silence； broken by the aged butler's breathing。 Dressed in his Newmarket coat； he was recalling with a certain sense of luxury past； journeys in four…wheeled cabsoccasions when； seated beside a box corded and secured with sealing…wax； he had taken his master's plate for safety to the bank； occasions when； under a roof piled up with guns and boxes； he had sat holding the 〃Honorable Bateson's〃 dog； occasions when； with