“And did he tell you my grandfather Carfax’s dictum in the Banstock case?” muttered Cecilia.

“Oh yes:  ’The man who does not know his own mind should be made an Irishman by Act of Parliament.’  He said it was so awfully good.”

“He would,” replied Cecilia.

“He seems to depress you, rather!”

“Oh no; I believe he’s quite a nice sort of person.  One can’t be rude to him; he really did what he thought a very kind thing to my father.  That’s how we came to know him.  Only it’s rather trying when he will come to call regularly.  He gets a little on one’s nerves.”

“Ah, that’s just what I feel is so jolly about him; no one would ever get on his nerves.  I do think we’ve got too many nerves, don’t you?  Here’s your brother-in-law.  He’s such an uncommon-looking man; I want to have a talk with him about that little model.  A country girl, wasn’t she?”

She had turned her head towards a tall man with a very slight stoop and a brown, thin, bearded face, who was approaching from the door.  She did not see that Cecilia had flushed, and was looking at her almost angrily.  The tall thin man put his hand on Cecilia’s arm, saying gently:  “Hallo Cis!  Stephen here yet?”

Cecilia shook her head.

“You know Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace, Hilary?”

The tall man bowed.  His hazel-coloured eyes were shy, gentle, and deep-set; his eyebrows, hardly ever still, gave him a look of austere whimsicality.  His dark brown hair was very lightly touched with grey, and a frequent kindly smile played on his lips.  His unmannerismed manner was quiet to the point of extinction.  He had long, thin, brown hands, and nothing peculiar about his dress.

“I’ll leave you to talk to Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace,” Cecilia said.

A knot of people round Mr. Balladyce prevented her from moving far, however, and the voice of Mrs. Smallpeace travelled to her ears.

“I was talking about that little model.  It was so good of you to take such interest in the girl.  I wondered whether we could do anything for her.”

Cecilia’s hearing was too excellent to miss the tone of Hilary’s reply: 

“Oh, thank you; I don’t think so.”

“I fancied perhaps you might feel that our Society—–­hers is an unsatisfactory profession for young girls!”

Cecilia saw the back of Hilary’s neck grow red.  She turned her head away.

“Of course, there are many very nice models indeed,” said the voice of Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace.  “I don’t mean that they are necessarily at all—­if they’re girls of strong character; and especially if they don’t sit for the—­the altogether.”

Hilary’s dry, staccato answer came to Cecilia’s ears:  “Thank you; it’s very kind of you.”

“Oh, of course, if it’s not necessary.  Your wife’s picture was so clever, Mr. Dallison—­such an interesting type.”