Of course at the corner of the street he had to go.  “Till next time!” he murmured.  And fire came out of his eyes and lighted in Sophia’s lovely head those lamps which Mrs. Baines was mercifully spared from seeing.  And he had shaken hands and raised his hat.  Imagine a god raising his hat!  And he went off on two legs, precisely like a dashing little commercial traveller.

And, escorted by the equivocal Angel of Eclipses, she had turned into King Street, and arranged her face, and courageously met her mother.  Her mother had not at first perceived the unusual; for mothers, despite their reputation to the contrary, really are the blindest creatures.  Sophia, the naive ninny, had actually supposed that her walking along a hundred yards of pavement with a god by her side was not going to excite remark!  What a delusion!  It is true, certainly, that no one saw the god by direct vision.  But Sophia’s cheeks, Sophia’s eyes, the curve of Sophia’s neck as her soul yearned towards the soul of the god—­these phenomena were immeasurably more notable than Sophia guessed.  An account of them, in a modified form to respect Mrs. Baines’s notorious dignity, had healed the mother of her blindness and led to that characteristic protest from her, “I shall be glad if you will not walk about the streets with young men,” etc.

When the period came for the reappearance of Mr. Scales, Mrs. Baines outlined a plan, and when the circular announcing the exact time of his arrival was dropped into the letter-box, she formulated the plan in detail.  In the first place, she was determined to be indisposed and invisible herself, so that Mr. Scales might be foiled in any possible design to renew social relations in the parlour.  In the second place, she flattered Constance with a single hint—­oh, the vaguest and briefest!—­and Constance understood that she was not to quit the shop on the appointed morning.  In the third place, she invented a way of explaining to Mr. Povey that the approaching advent of Gerald Scales must not be mentioned.  And in the fourth place, she deliberately made appointments for Sophia with two millinery customers in the showroom, so that Sophia might be imprisoned in the showroom.

Having thus left nothing to chance, she told herself that she was a foolish woman full of nonsense.  But this did not prevent her from putting her lips together firmly and resolving that Mr. Scales should have no finger in the pie of her family.  She had acquired information concerning Mr. Scales, at secondhand, from Lawyer Pratt.  More than this, she posed the question in a broader form—­why should a young girl be permitted any interest in any young man whatsoever?  The everlasting purpose had made use of Mrs. Baines and cast her off, and,, like most persons in a similar situation, she was, unconsciously and quite honestly, at odds with the everlasting purpose.

II