This the first time these two had each other at large, was clearly not a comfortable event for either of them. The girl blushed, and hastily got off her seat. Hilary, who raised his hat and frowned, sat down on it.
"Don't get up," he said; "I want to talk to you."The little model obediently resumed her seat. A silence followed.
She had on the old brown skirt and knitted jersey, the old blue-green tam-o'-shanter cap, and there were marks of weariness beneath her eyes.
At last Hilary remarked: "How are you getting on?"The little model looked at her feet.
"Pretty well, thank you, Mr. Dallison."
"I came to see you yesterday."
She slid a look at him which might have meant nothing or meant much, so perfect its shy stolidity.
"I was out," she said, "sitting to Miss Boyle.""So you have some work?"
"It's finished now."
"Then you're only getting the two shillings a day from Mr. Stone?"She nodded.
"H'm!"
The unexpected fervour of this grunt seemed to animate the little model.
"Three and sixpence for my rent, and breakfast costs threepence nearly--only bread-and-butter--that's five and two; and washing's always at least tenpence--that's six; and little things last week was a shilling--even when I don't take buses--seven; that leaves five shillings for my dinners. Mr. Stone always gives me tea. It's my clothes worries me." She tucked her feet farther beneath the seat, and Hilary refrained from looking down. "My hat is awful, and I do want some---" She looked Hilary in the face for the first time. "Ido wish I was rich."
"I don't wonder."
The little model gritted her teeth, and, twisting at her dirty gloves, said: "Mr. Dallison, d'you know the first thing I'd buy if Iwas rich?"
"No."
"I'd buy everything new on me from top to toe, and I wouldn't ever wear any of these old things again."Hilary got up: "Come with me now, and buy everything new from top to toe.""Oh!"
Hilary had already perceived that he had made an awkward, even dangerous, proposal; short, however, of giving her money, the idea of which offended his sense of delicacy, there was no way out of it. He said brusquely: "Come along!"The little model rose obediently. Hilary noticed that her boots were split, and this--as though he had seen someone strike a child--so moved his indignation that he felt no more qualms, but rather a sort of pleasant glow, such as will come to the most studious man when he levels a blow at the conventions.
He looked down at his companion--her eyes were lowered; he could not tell at all what she was thinking of.
"This is what I was going to speak to you about," he said: "I don't like that house you're in; I think you ought to be somewhere else.
What do you say?"
"Yes, Mr. Dallison."
"You'd better make a change, I think; you could find another room, couldn't you?"The little model answered as before: "Yes, Mr. Dallison.""I'm afraid that Hughs is-a dangerous sort of fellow.""He's a funny man."
"Does he annoy you?"
Her expression baffled Hilary; there seemed a sort of slow enjoyment in it. She looked up knowingly.
"I don't mind him--he won't hurt me. Mr. Dallison, do you think blue or green?"Hilary answered shortly: "Bluey-green."
She clasped her hands, changed her feet with a hop, and went on walking as before.
"Listen to me," said Hilary; "has Mrs. Hughs been talking to you about her husband?"The little model smiled again.
"She goes on," she said.
Hilary bit his lips.
"Mr. Dallison, please--about my hat?"
"What about your hat?"
"Would you like me to get a large one or a small one?""For God's sake," answered Hilary, "a small one--no feathers.""Oh!"
"Can you attend to me a minute? Have either Hughs or Mrs. Hughs spoken to you about--coming to my house, about--me?"The little model's face remained impassive, but by the movement of her fingers Hilary saw that she was attending now.
"I don't care what they say."
Hilary looked away; an angry flush slowly mounted in his face.
With surprising suddenness the little model said:
"Of course, if I was a lady, I might mind!"
"Don't talk like that!" said Hilary; "every woman is a lady."The stolidity of the girl's face, more mocking far than any smile, warned him of the cheapness of this verbiage.
"If I was a lady," she repeated simply, "I shouldn't be livin' there, should I?""No," said Hilary; "and you had better not go on living there, anyway."The little model making no answer, Hilary did not quite know what to say. It was becoming apparent to him that she viewed the situation with a very different outlook from himself, and that he did not understand that outlook.
He felt thoroughly at sea, conscious that this girl's life contained a thousand things he did not know, a thousand points of view he did not share.
Their two figures attracted some attention in the crowded street, for Hilary-tall and slight, with his thin, bearded face and soft felt hat--was what is known as "a distinguished-looking man"; and the little model, though not "distinguished-looking" in her old brown skirt and tam-o'shanter cap, had the sort of face which made men and even women turn to look at her. To men she was a little bit of strangely interesting, not too usual, flesh and blood; to women, she was that which made men turn to look at her. Yet now and again there would rise in some passer-by a feeling more impersonal, as though the God of Pity had shaken wings overhead, and dropped a tiny feather.
So walking, and exciting vague interest, they reached the first of the hundred doors of Messrs. Rose and Thorn.
