Victoria knew the house in Hanover Street, with its classic porch, with its certain air of distinction and stability, and long before she had known it as the Austen residence she remembered wondering who lived in it.  The house had individuality, and (looked at from the front) almost perfect proportions; consciously—­it bespoke the gentility of its builders.  Now she drew up before it and called to Mr. Rangely, who was abreast, to tie his horse and ring the bell.  Hilary was already feeling with his foot for the step of the buggy.

“I’m all right,” he insisted; “I can manage now,” but Victoria seized his arm with a firm, detaining hand.

“Please wait,—­Mr. Vane,” she pleaded.

But the feeling of shame at his helplessness was strong.

“It’s over now.  I—­I can walk.  I’m much obliged to you, Victoria—­much obliged.”

Fortunately Hilary’s horse showed no inclination to go any farther—­even to the stable.  And Victoria held on to his arm.  He ceased to protest, and Mr. Rangely quickly tied the other horse and came to Victoria’s aid.  Supported by the young Englishman, Hilary climbed the stone steps and reached the porch, declaring all the while that he needed no assistance, and could walk alone.  Victoria rang the bell, and after an interval the door was opened by Euphrasia Cotton.

Euphrasia stood upright with her hand on the knob, and her eyes flashed over the group and rested fixedly on the daughter of Mr. Flint.

“Mr. Vane was not very well,” Victoria explained, “and we came home with him.”

“I’m all right,” said Hilary, once more, and to prove it he stepped—­not very steadily—­across the threshold into the hall, and sat down on a chair which had had its place at the foot of the stairs from time immemorial.  Euphrasia stood still.

“I think,” said Victoria, “that Mr. Vane had better see a doctor.  Have you a telephone?”

“No, we haven’t,” said Euphrasia.

Victoria turned to Mr. Rangely, who had been a deeply interested spectator to this scene.

“A little way down the street, on the other side, Dr. Tredway lives.  You will see his sign.”

“And if he isn’t in, go to the hospital.  It’s only a few doors farther on.”

“I’ll wait,” said Victoria, simply, when he had gone; “my father will wish to know about Mr. Vane.”

“Hold on,” said Hilary, “I haven’t any use for a doctor—­I won’t see one.  I know what the trouble is, and I’m all right.”

Victoria became aware—­for the first time that Hilary Vane’s housekeeper had not moved; that Euphrasia Cotton was still staring at her in a most disconcerting manner, and was paying no attention whatever to Hilary.

“Come in and set down,” she said; and seeing Victoria glance at Hilary’s horse, she added, “Oh, he’ll stand there till doomsday.”