“I’ve been hearing some odd things from Mrs. Hughs about that little model, Hilary.”

Hilary’s smile faded from his eyes, but remained clinging to his lips.

“Indeed!”

Cecilia went on nervously:  “Mrs. Hughs says it’s because of her that Hughs behaves so badly.  I don’t want to say anything against the girl, but she seems—­she seems to have—–­”

“Yes?” said Hilary.

“To have cast a spell on Hughs, as the woman puts it.”

“On Hughs!” repeated Hilary.

Cecilia found her eyes resting on the bust of Socrates, and hastily proceeded: 

“She says he follows her about, and comes down here to lie in wait for her.  It’s a most strange business altogether.  You went to see them, didn’t you?”

Hilary nodded.

“I’ve been speaking to Father,” Cecilia murmured; “but he’s hopeless—­I, couldn’t get him to pay the least attention.”

Hilary seemed thinking deeply.

“I wanted him,” she went on, “to get some other girl instead to come and copy for him.”

“Why?”

Under the seeming impossibility of ever getting any farther, without saying what she had come to say, Cecilia blurted out: 

“Mrs. Hughs says that Hughs has threatened you.”

Hilary’s face became ironical.

“Really!” he said.  “That’s good of him!  What for?”

The frightful indelicacy of her situation at this moment, the feeling of unfairness that she should be placed in it, almost overwhelmed Cecilia.  “Goodness knows I don’t want to meddle.  I never meddle in anything-it’s horrible!”

Hilary took her hand.

“My dear Cis,” he said, “of course!  But we’d better have this out!”

Grateful for the pressure of his hand, she gave it a convulsive squeeze.

“It’s so sordid, Hilary!”

“Sordid!  H’m!  Let’s get it over, then.”

Cecilia had grown crimson.  “Do you want me to tell you everything?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, Hughs evidently thinks you’re interested in the girl.  You can’t keep anything from servants and people who work about your house; they always think the worst of everything—­and, of course, they know that you and B. don’t—­aren’t—–­”

Hilary nodded.

“Mrs. Hughs actually said the man meant to go to B.!”

Again the vision of her sister seemed to float into the room, and she went on desperately:  “And, Hilary, I can see Mrs. Hughs really thinks you are interested.  Of course, she wants to, for if you were, it would mean that a man like her husband could have no chance.”

Astonished at this flash of cynical inspiration, and ashamed of such plain speaking, she checked herself.  Hilary had turned away.

Cecilia touched his arm.  “Hilary, dear,” she said, “isn’t there any chance of you and B—–­”

Hilary’s lips twitched.  “I should say not.”