Fraternity | Page 8

know
why he comes to see us."
"I think he's so delicious!" said Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace dreamily. Her
little dark eyes, like bees, had flown to sip honey from the flower in

question--a man of broad build and medium height, dressed. with
accuracy, who seemed just a little out of his proper bed. His
mustachioed mouth wore a set smile; his cheerful face was rather red,
with a forehead of no extravagant height or breadth, and a conspicuous
jaw; his hair was thick and light in colour, and his eyes were small,
grey, and shrewd. He was looking at a picture.
"He's so delightfully unconscious," murmured Mrs. Tallents
Smallpeace. "He didn't even seem to know that there was a problem of
the lower classes."
"Did he tell you that he had a picture?" asked Cecilia gloomily.
"Oh yes, by Harpignies, with the accent on the 'pig.' It's worth three
times what he gave for it. It's so nice to be made to feel that there is still
all that mass of people just simply measuring everything by what they
gave for it."
"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."
Without intention Cecilia found herself before that picture. It stood
with its face a little turned towards the wall, as though somewhat in
disgrace, portraying the full-length figure of a girl standing in deep
shadow, with her arms half outstretched, as if asking for something.
Her eyes were fixed on Cecilia, and through her parted lips breath
almost seemed to come. The only colour in the picture was the pale
blue of those eyes, the pallid red of those parted lips, the still paler
brown of the hair; the rest was shadow. In the foreground light was
falling as though from a street-lamp.
Cecilia thought: "That girl's eyes and mouth haunt me. Whatever made
Blanca choose such a subject? It is clever, of course--for her."

CHAPTER II
A FAMILY DISCUSSION
The marriage of Sylvanus Stone, Professor of the Natural Sciences, to
Anne,