Taking advantage of shop-windows, omnibuses, passers-by, and other bits of cover, he prosecuted the chase up the steepy heights of Campden Hill.  But soon a nearly fatal check occurred; for, chancing to take his eyes off Hughs, he saw the little model returning on her tracks.  Ready enough in physical emergencies, Hilary sprang into a passing omnibus.  He saw her stopping before the window of a picture-shop.  From the expression of her face and figure, she evidently had no idea that she was being followed, but stood with a sort of slack-lipped wonder, lost in admiration of a well-known print.  Hilary had often wondered who could possibly admire that picture—­he now knew.  It was obvious that the girl’s aesthetic sense was deeply touched.

While this was passing through his mind, he caught sight of Hughs lurking outside a public-house.  The dark man’s face was sullen and dejected, and looked as if he suffered.  Hilary felt a sort of pity for him.

The omnibus leaped forward, and he sat down smartly almost on a lady’s lap.  This was the lap of Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace, who greeted him with a warm, quiet smile, and made a little room.

“Your sister-in-law has just been to see me, Mr. Dallison.  She’s such a dear-so interested in everything.  I tried to get her to come on to my meeting with me.”

Raising his hat, Hilary frowned.  For once his delicacy was at fault.  He said: 

“Ah, yes!  Excuse me!” and got out.

Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace looked after him, and then glanced round the omnibus.  His conduct was very like the conduct of a man who had got in to keep an assignation with a lady, and found that lady sitting next his aunt.  She was unable to see a soul who seemed to foster this view, and sat thinking that he was “rather attractive.”  Suddenly her dark busy eyes lighted on the figure of the little model strolling along again.

‘Oh!’ she thought.  ‘Ah!  Yes, really!  How very interesting!’

Hilary, to avoid meeting the girl point-blank, had turned up a by-street, and, finding a convenient corner, waited.  He was puzzled.  If this man were persecuting her with his attentions, why had he not gone across when she was standing at the picture-shop?

She passed across the opening of the by-street, still walking in the slack way of one who takes the pleasures of the streets.  She passed from view; Hilary strained his eyes to see if Hughs were following.  He waited several minutes.  The man did not appear.  The chase was over!  And suddenly it flashed across him that Hughs had merely dogged her to see that she had no assignation with anybody.  They had both been playing the same game!  He flushed up in that shady little street, in which he was the only person to be seen.  Cecilia was right!  It was a sordid business.  A man more in touch with facts than Hilary would have had some mental pigeonhole into which to put an incident like this; but, being by profession concerned mainly with ideas and thoughts, he did not quite know where he was.  The habit of his mind precluded him from thinking very definitely on any subject except his literary work—­precluded him especially in a matter of this sort, so inextricably entwined with that delicate, dim question, the impact of class on class.