“One can’t believe anything they say.  That’s what I hate.  I thought Hughs simply knocked her about.  I didn’t know it was her jealousy—­”

“Of course you didn’t.  Do you imagine those people give anything away to our sort unless they’re forced?  They know better.”

“Well, I hate the whole thing—­it’s all so sordid!”

“O Lord!”

“Well, it is!  I don’t feel that I want to help a woman who can say and feel such horrid things, or the girl, or any of them.”

“Who cares what they say or feel? that’s not the point.  It’s simply a case of common sense:  Your people put that girl there, and they must get her to clear out again sharp.  It’s just a question of what’s healthy.”

“Well, I know it’s not healthy for me to have anything to do with, and I won’t!  I don’t believe you can help people unless they want to be helped.”

Martin whistled.

“You’re rather a brute, I think,” said Thyme.

“A brute, not rather a brute.  That’s all the difference.”

“For the worse!”

“I don’t think so, Thyme!”

There was no answer.

“Look at me.”

Very slowly Thyme turned her eyes.

“Well?”

“Are you one of us, or are you not?”

“Of course I am.”

“You’re not!”

“I am.”

“Well, don’t let’s fight about it.  Give me your hand.”

He dropped his hand on hers.  Her face had flushed rose colour.  Suddenly she freed herself.  “Here’s Uncle Hilary!”

It was indeed Hilary, with Miranda, trotting in advance.  His hands were crossed behind him, his face bent towards the ground.  The two young people on the bench sat looking at him.

“Buried in self-contemplation,” murmured Martin; “that’s the way he always walks.  I shall tell him about this!”

The colour of Thyme’s face deepened from rose to crimson.

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Well—­those new—–­” She could not bring out that word “clothes.”  It would have given her thoughts away.

Hilary seemed making for their seat, but Miranda, aware of Martin, stopped.  “A man of action!” she appeared to say.  “The one who pulls my ears.”  And turning, as though unconscious, she endeavoured to lead Hilary away.  Her master, however, had already seen his niece.  He came and sat down on the bench beside her.

“We wanted you!” said Martin, eyeing him slowly, as a young dog will eye another of a different age and breed.  “Thyme and I have been to see the Hughs in Hound Street.  Things are blowing up for a mess.  You, or whoever put the girl there, ought to get her away again as quick as possible.”

Hilary seemed at once to withdraw into himself.

“Well,” he said, “let us hear all about it.”

“The woman’s jealous of her:  that’s all the trouble!”

“Oh!” said Hilary; “that’s all the trouble?”