shewas
really
once
more
in
his
presence
.
Hamlin
shook
his
head
sadly
.
“
Why
cannot
we
revive
those
?
”
he
said
,
pointing
to
a
bunch
of
delicate
pale‐pink
roses
,
which
drooped
withered
in
a
Venetian
glass
.
“
What
is
dead
is
dead
.
The
only
thing
that
remains
for
us
late
comers
to
do
is
to
pick
up
the
faded
petals
and
keep
them
,
discoloured
as
they
are
,
to
scent
our
lives
.
The
world
is
getting
uglier
and
uglier
outside
us
;
we
must
,
out
of
the
materials
bequeathed
to
us
by
former
generations
,
and
with
the
help
of
our
own
fancy
,
build
for
ourselves
a
little
world
within
the
world
,
a
world
of
beauty
,
where
we
may
live
with
our
friends
and
keep
alive
whatever
small
sense
of
beauty
and
nobility
still
remains
to
us
,
that
it
may
not
get
utterly
lost
,
and
those
who
come
after
us
may
not
be
in
a
wilderness
of
sordid
sights
and
sordid
feelings
.
Ours
is
not
the
mission
of
the
poets
and
artists
of
former
days
;
it
is
humbler
,
sadder
,
but
equally
necessary
.
”
“
Oh
,
but
you
must
not
say
that
!
”
cried
Anne
.
“
What
you
do
will
last
,
don’t
you
know
,
like
the
things
which
people
were
able
to
do
formerly
.
”
Hamlin
shook
his
head
,
and
remained
for
some
time
with
his
beautiful
greenish‐blue
eyes
fixed
on
Anne
,
as
she
sat
twisting
and
untwisting
the
fringe
on
the
arm
of
her
chair
.
“
There
is
one
consolation
,
Miss
Brown
,
”
said
Hamlin
,
rising
from
his
chair
and
leaning
against
the
chimney‐piece
,
all
covered
with
Japanese
cups
and
curious
nick‐nacks
,
and
not
taking
his
eyes
off
her
,
“
and
that
is
,
that
even
now
,
Nature
,
which
is
so
barren
of
painters
and
poets
,
can
produce
creatures
as
wonderful
as
those
who
inspired
the
painters
and
poets
of
former
times
—
a
consolation
,
and
at
the
same
time
a
source
of
despair
.
”
Hamlin
spoke
these
lover‐like
words
in
a
tone
so
cold
,
so
sad
,
that
Anne
did
not
at
first
understand
to
whom
he
was
alluding
,
and
looked
up
rather
in
interrogation
than
in
embarrassment
.
A
bell
rang
.
“
There’s
lunch
,
”
said
Hamlin
.
“
We
must
finish
our
discussion
afterwards
.
”
CHAPTER
III
.
“
WON’T
you
take
her
out
for
a
drive
,
Walter
?
”
asked
Mrs
Macgregor
,
after
lunch
.
“
She
must
be
curious
to
see
something
of
London
.
”
Hamlin
looked
at
Anne
,
as
much
as
to
say
,
“
Do
you
really
wish
to
go
?
”
“
I
am
sure
Miss
Brown
is
too
tired
from
her
journey
,
aunt
,
”
he
said
;
“
and
what
is
there
to
take
her
to
see
in
this
beastly
city
?
”
“
I
thought
we
might
have
a
brougham
and
take
her
to
see
a
few
of
your
friends
,
Walter
,
”
suggested
Mrs
Macgregor
.
Poor
Anne
felt
a
sort
of
horror
go
all
down
her
.
“
Oh
,
please
don’t
!
”
she
cried
—
“
not
to‐day
;
don’t
take
me
to
see
any
one
,
please
.
”
“
It’s
much
wiser
to
let
her
rest
,
”
said
Hamlin
,
in
a
tone
of
annoyance
.
“
Won’t
you
just
take
the
poor
girl
to
Mrs
Argiropoulo’s
,
Watty
?
”
insisted
his
aunt
.
“
It’s
a
sin
to
keep
her
mewed
up
at
Hammersmith
all
day
;
and
you
know
Mrs
Argiropoulo
was
so
anxious
to
see
her
at
once
.
”
“
Confound
Mrs
Argiropoulo
!
”
exclaimed
Hamlin
.
“
I
beg
your
pardon
,
Miss
Brown
,
but
do
you
feel
inclined
,
after
your
long
journey
,
to
go
and
see
a
fat
,
fashionable
lion‐huntress
,
with
a
snob
of
a
husband
who
sells
currants
?
”
“
Not
at
all
,
”
answered
Anne
,
laughing
.
“
I
would
much
rather
stay
at
home
,
really
.
”
“
Very
well
;
then
I
will
show
you
the
garden
and
my
studio
,
if
you
don’t
mind
;
and
a
great
friend
of
mine
,
Cosmo
Chough
,
—
I
think
I
sent
you
some
of
his
poems
about
music
.
.
.
.
”
“
Oh
yes
,
”
cried
Anne
;
“
they
are
lovely
—
”
“
I
think
little
Chough’s
poems
perfectly
indecent
,
”
interrupted
Mrs
Macgregor
.
“
I
would
much
sooner
let
a
girl
read
‘Don
Juan
,
’
or
even
‘Candide
,
’
any
day
.
”
Hamlin
reddened
,
but
laughed
.
“
Opinions
differ
;
at
any
rate
,
Miss
Brown
knows
only
Chough’s
best
things
;
and
when
he
is
at
his
best
,
Chough
is
really
very
good
and
pure
and
elevated
.
”
“
Ah
,
well
,
”
merely
remarked
Mrs
Macgregor
.
“
Cosmo
Chough
said
he
would
look
in
about
four
,
”
went
on
Hamlin
.
“
He
is
a
strange
creature
,
and
sometimes
says
odd
things
.
”
“
Very
odd
things
,
”
put
in
his
aunt
.
“
But
he
is
as
pure‐minded
a
man
as
I
know
,
and
a
real
poet
,
”
went
on
Hamlin
—
“
indeed
quite
one
of
the
best
;
and
he
is
a
great
musician
,
and
a
most
entertaining
fellow
—
his
only
weakness
is
that
he
is
a
great
republican
and
democrat
,
but
would
like
to
be
thought
the
son
of
a
duke
.
”
“
The
son
of
a
duke
?
”
asked
Anne
,
in
surprise
.
“
Oh
,
the
natural
son
,
of
course
—
forgive
me
,
my
dear
,
”
said
Mrs
Macgregor
.
“
People
nowadays
like
anything
illegitimate
—
it’s
a
distinction
.
It
wasn’t
in
my
day
,
but
things
have
changed
;
and
Mr
Cosmo
Chough
would
dearly
like
to
be
thought
a
bastard
,
especially
a
duke’s
.
”
Hamlin
smiled
.
“
Poor
Chough
!
Some
one
told
him
he
was
like
Richard
Savage
one
day
,
and
that’s
his
pose
.
Would
you
like
to
come
into
the
garden
,
Miss
Brown
?
”
They
went
together
into
the
strip
of
garden
which
lay
behind
the
house
.
There
were
not
many
flowers
out
as
yet
,
only
a
few
peonies
and
lilacs
,
and
a
belated
tulip
or
hyacinth
,
but
there
was
green
,
daisied
grass
,
and
big
grey‐mossed
apple‐trees
still
in
blossom
;
and
across
the
low
walls
,
covered
with
creepers
,
you
saw
big
waving
tree‐branches
,
and
old
brick
houses
covered
with
ivy
:
the
birds
were
singing
,
and
some
hens
clucking
next
door
.
It
was
very
quiet
and
old‐world
.
Hamlin
showed
her
all
the
rose‐buds
which
might
soon
come
out
,
and
the
place
where
the
lilies
would
be
,
and
the
espaliers
for
the
sweet‐peas
.
Then
they
went
into
the
two
ground‐floor
rooms
which
he
was
arranging
for
his
studio
:
there
were
quantities
of
beautiful
rare
books
and
volumes
of
prints
,
and
Persian
and
Japanese
and
old
Italian
metal‐work
,
and
pottery
all
about
,
and
easels
with
unfinished
pictures
evcrywhere
—
a
great
and
beautiful
confusion
.
When
he
had
showed
her
his
properties
,
and
she
had
reverently
handled
the
things
which
had
once
belonged
to
Shelley
and
Keats
,
and
the
bundles
of
unpublished
manuscripts
,
entrusted
to
Hamlin
by
living
poets
,
they
sat
down
in
the
studio
and
began
to
discuss
various
matters
:
Anne’s
school
life
,
her
readings
and
lessons
,
Hamlin’s
work
,
art
,
poetry
,
life
,
all
sorts
of
things
,
—
a
long
and
drowsy
afternoon’s
talk
,
such
as
is
possible
only
after
a
long
correspondence
between
people
become
familiar
without
much
personal
intercourse
,
who
,
knowing
each
other’s
mind
,
are
now
beginning
to
know
each
other’s
face
and
ways
and
heart
;
and
which
has
a
charm
quite
peculiar
to
itself
,
like
that
of
hearing
for
the
first
time
,
with
full
symphony
of
voices
and
instruments
,
some
piece
of
music
which
we
have
learned
to
know
and
love
merely
from
the
dry
score
.
Anne
had
never
felt
so
happy
in
all
her
life
,
and
Hamlin
not
often
happier
in
his
,
as
they
sat
in
the
studio
,
talking
over
abstract
questions
,
which
seemed
to
acquire
such
a
quite
personal
interest
from
those
who
were
discussing
them
.
They
were
thus
engaged
when
the
servant
announced
Mr
Cosmo
Chough
.
Anne’s
heart
sank
at
the
thought
of
confronting
one
of
Hamlin’s
most
intimate
friends
,
and
one
of
the
poets
who
constituted
the
stars
of
his
solar
system
.
To
Anne’s
surprise
Mr
Chough
did
not
at
all
resemble
either
Shelley
or
Keats
,
as
she
imagined
;
he
was
a
little
wiry
man
,
with
fiercely
brushed
coal‐black
hair
and
whiskers
,
dressed
within
an
inch
of
his
life
,
but
in
a
style
of
fashionableness
,
booted
and
cravated
,
which
was
quite
peculiar
to
himself
.
“
Miss
Brown
,
”
said
Hamlin
,
“
let
me
introduce
my
old
friend
,
Cosmo
Chough
.
”
Mr
Chough
made
a
most
fascinating
bow
,
and
swooped
gracefully
to
the
other
end
of
the
studio
to
fetch
himself
a
chair
near
Anne’s
.
He
was
quite
touchingly
concerned
in
Anne’s
journey
and
her
sensations
after
it
;
and
asked
her
whether
she
liked
London
,
with
a
sort
of
expansive
chivalry
of
manner
,
as
of
Sir
Walter
Raleigh
spreading
embroidered
cloaks
across
puddles
for
Queen
Elizabeth
,
which
struck
her
as
rather
ridiculous
,
but
very
agreeable
,
as
she
had
rather
anticipated
being
scorned
by
Hamlin’s
poetical
friends
.
Anne
thought
Mr.
Chough
decidedly
nice
,
with
his
oriental
style
of
politeness
,
and
magnificent
volubility
,
constantly
quoting
poetry
in
various
languages
in
a
shrill
and
chirpy
voice
;
moreover
,
he
seemed
to
adore
Hamlin
,
and
this
was
enough
to
put
him
in
her
good
graces
.
Mr
Chough
rapidly
informed
her
what
the
principal
poets
in
London
and
Paris
(
for
he
spoke
of
French
things
with
an
affectation
of
throaty
accent
and
allusions
to
his
“
real
country
”
which
greatly
puzzled
Anne
)
were
writing
;
and
Anne
felt
so
completely
taken
into
confidence
that
she
ventured
to
ask
him
whether
he
was
himself
writing
anything
at
present
,
as
she
had
greatly
admired
some
short
pieces
of
his
which
Hamlin
had
sent
her
.
Mr
Chough
was
as
modest
as
he
was
polite
.
His
eyes
shone
,
and
he
clasped
his
small
hands
in
ecstasy
at
the
idea
of
anything
of
his
having
pleased
Miss
Brown
.
He
then
proceeded
to
tell
her
that
he
had
an
idea
for
a
long
poem
—
a
sort
of
masque
or
mystery‐play
—
to
be
called
the
Triumph
of
Womanhood
.
“
We
were
trying
over
some
of
Jomelli’s
music
a
night
or
two
ago
,
at
Isaac
the
great
composer’s
,
”
he
explained
;
“
magnificent
music
,
which
no
one
can
sing
nowadays
,
and
we
feebly
crowed
,
when
in
the
midst
of
the
great
burst
of
the
“
Gloria
”
I
seemed
to
have
revealed
to
me
a
vision
of
a
mystic
procession
of
women
going
in
triumph
;
I
understood
,
in
a
sort
of
flash
,
the
mysterious
and
real
regalness
of
Womanhood
.
”
“
It
must
have
been
very
beautiful
,
”
said
Anne
,
naively
.
Mr
Chough
had
opened
the
piano
,
and
began
playing
,
in
a
masterly
way
,
a
fragment
of
very
intricate
fugue
.
“
Do
you
notice
that
?
”
he
asked
:
“
that
sudden
modulation
there
—
ta
ta
ti
,
la
la
la
—
from
A
minor
to
E
major
,
—
that
somehow
mysteriously
brought
home
to
me
one
of
the
figures
of
that
triumphal
procession
,
and
her
I
have
tried
to
describe
.
If
you
like
,
I
can
repeat
you
the
first
few
lines
;
it
is
called
‘Imperia
of
Rome.’
”
“
How
good
of
you
,
”
cried
Anne
.
“
I
think
we
had
better
put
off
hearing
it
till
you
have
composed
rather
more
of
the
poem
,
”
interrupted
Hamlin
.
Cosmo
Chough
looked
mortified
,
and
Anne
wondered
why
Hamlin
should
silence
his
old
friend
.
“
Tell
me
all
about
Imperia
of
Rome
,
”
she
asked
.
“
Who
was
she
?
—
had
she
anything
to
do
with
the
Scipios
,
or
Cato
,
or
Tarquin
?
”
“
Imperia
was
not
an
ancient
Roman
,
”
explained
Chough
;
“
she
lived
at
the
beginning
of
the
sixteenth
century
,
and
it
is
said
that
all
the
cardinals
and
poets
and
artists
of
Rome
,
nay
,
the
Pope
himself
,
accompanied
her
coffin
when
she
died
.
”
“
Why
,
what
had
she
done
?
—
was
she
a
saint
?
”
“
The
inscription
on
her
tomb
is
,
I
think
,
the
most
truly
noble
and
Roman
ever
composed
on
any
woman
,
”
proceeded
Chough
;
“
Imperia
.
.
.
”
“
Miss
Brown
doesn’t
understand
Latin
,
Cosmo
,
”
interrupted
Hamlin
,
roughly
,
“
and
I
am
sure
she
would
take
no
interest
in
Imperia
or
her
epitaph
.
Supposing
you
let
Miss
Brown
hear
some
of
that
beautiful
Jomelli
Mass
you
were
speaking
about
.
Chough
is
one
of
the
finest
musicians
I
know
,
”
he
explained
to
Anne
,
“
and
he
is
quite
famous
for
singing
all
sorts
of
forgotten
old
Italian
masters
.
”
Chough
sat
down
and
began
to
sing
,
in
a
warbling
falsetto
,
but
with
the
most
marvellous
old‐world
grace
and
finish
.
Anne
did
not
attend
.
She
was
wondering
about
Imperia
of
Rome
.
Why
had
Hamlin
cut
short
Chough
?
What
had
Imperia
done
?
The
remarks
of
Mrs
Macgregor
came
to
her
mind
;
and
she
felt
indignant
,
and
her
indignation
was
all
the
greater
,
perhaps
,
because
Chough’s
offence
was
vague
and
unknown
—
how
nobly
and
simply
Hamlin
had
silenced
him
!
She
wondered
whether
he
was
very
angry
with
Chough
,
and
whether
Chough’s
feelings
had
been
much
hurt
.
She
felt
rather
sorry
for
the
sharp
way
in
which
he
had
been
treated
,
and
terrified
lest
she
should
be
a
source
of
misunderstanding
between
Hamlin
and
his
friends
.
She
greatly
praised
Chough’s
singing
.
“
Will
you
sing
?
”
cried
the
little
poet
,
supplicatingly
;
“
you
must
have
a
beautiful
voice
.
I
know
it
from
your
way
of
speaking
.
”
Anne
refused
in
terror
.
“
Do
sing
,
Miss
Brown
,
”
urged
Hamlin
.
So
she
took
her
courage
with
both
hands
,
as
she
expressed
it
,
and
sang
an
air
by
Scarlatti
,
Chough
accompanying
.
She
made
several
false
starts
,
and
sang
the
wrong
words
almost
throughout
,
for
she
felt
a
lump
in
her
chest
.
Anne
had
a
deep
,
powerful
,
rather
guttural
voice
,
not
improved
by
singing
modern
German
songs
at
Coblenz
;
but
the
voice
was
fine
,
and
she
had
caught
something
of
the
manner
of
her
former
protectress
,
Miss
Curzon
,
who
had
been
a
great
singer
in
her
day
.
Chough
burst
out
into
applause
.
“
A
splendid
voice
!
”
he
cried
;
“
you
must
sing
,
Miss
Brown
—
you
must
study
—
I
will
come
and
practise
your
accompaniments
for
you
,
if
you
will
permit
me
.
”
Anne
looked
at
Hamlin
;
such
an
offer
,
on
so
slight
an
acquaintance
,
surprised
her
.
“
You
will
let
Chough
teach
you
,
won’t
you
,
Miss
Brown
?
”
asked
Hamlin
,
approvingly
.
He
afterwards
told
her
that
Chough
spent
whatever
leisure
remained
from
an
inferior
Government
offce
,
in
which
,
together
with
a
whole
band
of
other
poets
,
he
was
employed
,
in
playing
accompaniments
for
various
young
ladies
whom
he
considered
,
each
singly
,
the
most
divine
types
of
womanhood
whom
he
had
ever
met
.
Chough
was
in
high
spirits
,
and
proceeded
to
display
to
Anne
two
or
three
relics
which
he
carried
on
his
person
.
A
fervent
though
not
very
orthodox
Catholic
,
he
was
prone
to
religious
mysticism
:
on
his
watch‐chain
hung
a
gold
cross
,
containing
a
bit
of
wood
from
St
Theresa’s
house
,
which
a
friend
had
brought
him
from
Spain
;
by
its
side
dangled
a
large
locket
,
enclosing
a
wisp
of
yellow
hair
.
“
It
is
a
lock
of
Lucretia
Borgia’s
,
”
he
said
,
displaying
it
with
as
much
unction
as
he
had
manifested
for
St
Theresa
—
“
a
bit
of
the
one
which
Byron
possessed
,
—
the
most
precious
thing
I
have
in
all
the
world
.
”
“
She
was
rather
an
insignificant
character
though
,
on
the
whole
,
wasn’t
she
?
”
remarked
Anne
,
not
knowing
what
to
say
,
—
“
a
sort
of
characterless
villain
,
the
Germans
say
.
”
Cosmo
Chough
was
indignant
.
“
Insignificant
!
”
he
cried
—
“
a
Borgia
insignificant
!
Why
,
her
blood
ran
with
evil
as
the
Pactolus
does
with
gold
.
All
women
that
have
ever
been
,
except
Sappho
and
Vittoria
Accoramboni
,
and
perhaps
Faustina
,
were
lifeless
shadows
by
her
side
.
.
.
”
“
I
don’t
believe
in
those
sort
of
women
having
been
very
remarkable
,
”
said
Anne
,
in
her
frank
,
stolid
way
,
“
except
for
disreputableness
.
”
“
But
that
is
just
it
,
—
that
which
you
call
disreputableness
,
my
dear
Miss
Brown
,
”
cried
Chough
,
“
therein
is
their
greatness
,
in
that
fiery
.
.
.
”
Anne
shook
her
head
contemptuously
.
“
I
daresay
great
women
have
often
committed
great
crimes
,
”
she
said
;
“
but
then
they
have
had
great
plans
and
ambitions
;
they
have
not
been
mere
wretched
slaves
of
passion
;
”
and
she
relapsed
into
silence
.
She
had
had
what
Hamlin
used
to
call
her
Amazon
or
Valkyr
expression
as
she
spoke
;
and
he
felt
,
as
he
had
felt
in
Florence
,
the
persuasion
that
this
proud
and
sombre
woman
must
have
in
her
future
some
great
decision
,
some
great
sacrifice
of
others
or
of
herself
.
While
they
were
talking
,
the
servant
entered
to
tell
Miss
Brown
that
Mrs
Argiropoulo
was
in
the
drawing‐room
with
Mrs
Macgregor
.
“
Confound
Mrs
Argiropoulo
!
”
exclaimed
Hamlin
between
his
teeth
,
“
to
come
intruding
so
soon
.
”
“
Is
that
the
lion‐hunting
lady
?
”
asked
Anne
.
“
Yes
;
I
suppose
you
must
receive
her
,
as
she
has
called
on
you
.
”
“
Called
on
me
?
”
repeated
Anne
in
amazement
;
“
you
mean
on
Mrs
Macgregor
.
Why
,
how
should
she
have
heard
of
me
?
”
“
All
London
has
heard
of
you
,
Miss
Brown
,
”
exclaimed
Chough
enthusiastically
,
as
he
opened
the
door
for
her
;
“
at
least
all
that
deserves
to
be
called
London
.
And
Mrs
Argiropoulo
said
last
night
at
Wendell
the
R.A.’s
,
that
she
was
determined
to
see
you
before
any
other
creature
in
town
.
You
see
I
have
gained
a
march
upon
her
.
”
Anne
did
not
answer
,
but
she
grew
purple
.
So
every
one
was
curious
to
see
this
nursery‐maid
whom
the
great
Hamlin
had
cast
his
eyes
on
,
and
whom
he
had
generously
educated
;
for
the
first
time
her
heart
burst
with
indignation
and
ruffled
pride
.
But
after
a
moment
,
as
she
sat
in
the
drawing‐room
,
after
frigidly
returning
the
fat
and
fashionable
lion‐huntress’s
affectionate
greeting
,
her
conscience
smote
her
:
who
was
she
,
that
she
should
feel
thus
?
if
she
did
depend
entirely
on
Hamlin’s
generosity
,
ought
she
not
to
be
grateful
merely
,
and
proud
?
and
if
his
friends
felt
curious
to
see
her
,
was
it
not
natural
,
he
being
what
he
was
;
and
had
she
a
right
to
feel
annoyed
at
their
curiosity
,
at
their
knowing
all
about
her
?
It
had
been
mean
and
unworthy
.
Yet
she
could
not
help
feeling
a
sort
of
vague
anger
at
she
knew
not
what
,
as
the
lady
chattered
away
,
in
glib
Greek‐English
,
about
poets
,
and
studios
,
and
dinner‐parties
;
and
she
answered
Mrs
Argiropoulo
only
in
monosyllables
.
“
You
must
let
me
take
your
ward
into
society
a
little
,
dear
Mrs
Macgregor
,
”
lisped
the
Greek
lady
,
“
for
I
know
you
hate
going
out
of
an
evening
.
Miss
Brown
must
meet
some
of
the
principal
persons
of
our
set
.
”
She
was
very
fat
,
very
good‐natured
,
and
extremely
vulgar‐looking
,
her
huge
body
encased
in
a
medieval
dress
of
flaming
gold
brocade
.
“
What
in
the
world
can
she
have
to
do
among
artists
and
poets
?
”
thought
Anne
.
“
Her
husband
is
in
the
currant‐trade
,
”
whispered
Chough
—
“
an
awful
old
noodle
,
but
he
buys
more
pictures
of
our
school
than
any
one
else
.
Their
house
is
a
perfect
wonder
.
”
“
My
aunt
is
going
to
ask
a
few
friends
to
meet
Miss
Brown
first
here
,
”
answered
Hamlin
;
“
perhaps
you
will
join
them
,
Mrs
Argiropoulo
.
There’s
plenty
of
time
to
think
of
party‐going
.
”
“
Very
good
,
very
good
,
”
answered
Mrs
Argiropoulo
;
“
meanwhile
perhaps
I
may
have
the
pleasure
of
taking
Miss
Brown
out
for
a
drive
once
or
twice
.
”
“
I
am
sure
she
will
be
delighted
,
”
said
Hamlin
.
“
I
hate
that
woman
!
”
exclaimed
Hamlin
,
as
he
returned
from
escorting
the
wife
of
the
currant‐dealer
to
the
door
;
“
an
odious
,
inquisitive
,
vulgar
brute
.
”
“
She
looks
good‐natured
,
I
think
,
”
insinuated
Anne
.
“
Oh
,
every
one’s
good‐natured
!
”
“
In
your
set
,
Watty
?
”
asked
Mrs
Macgregor
,
bitterly
.
“
Every
one’s
good‐natured
!
”
continued
Hamlin
,
throwing
himself
back
in
his
chair
;
“
and
so’s
Mrs
Argiropoulo
.
But
a
kind
of
grain
that
sets
my
nerves
off
.
That’s
the
misfortune
of
London
,
that
a
lot
of
vulgar
creatures
,
merely
because
they
buy
our
pictures
and
give
dinners
,
have
come
and
invaded
our
set
,
showing
us
,
like
so
many
wild
beasts
,
to
the
fashionable
world
.
Positively
,
I
shall
have
to
give
up
London
.
But
you
will
find
,
”
he
added
,
turning
to
Anne
,
“
one
or
two
houses
still
remaining
where
one
meets
only
superior
people
—
the
houses
where
artistic
life
really
goes
on
.
”
“
Upon
whipped
cream
and
Swiss
champagne
,
”
said
Mrs
Macgregor
—
“
what
one
might
call
the
real
,
genuine
,
four
hundred
a‐year
intellectual
world
.
Ah
,
well
,
Walter
!
you
needn’t
look
reproachful
;
but
it
is
droll
what
sort
of
people
you
have
come
to
associate
with
—
clerks
and
penny‐a‐liners
,
each
of
them
a
great
poet
.
”
Hamlin
merely
smiled
.
“
One
must
make
a
world
for
one’s
self
,
”
he
said
,
and
looked
at
Anne
.
When
Mr
Cosmo
Chough
had
taken
his
seat
next
to
Mrs
Argiropoulo
,
the
portly
lady
deluged
him
with
questions
and
replies
as
her
landau
rolled
away
.
“
On
the
whole
,
I’m
quite
as
well
pleased
not
to
take
her
out
at
once
,
”
she
said
.
“
I’m
not
at
all
so
sure
about
her
.
She
seems
to
me
too
big
and
lumpish
and
healthy‐looking
.
I
should
like
to
have
one
or
two
opinions
first
—
one
or
two
artists’
,
and
young
Posthlethwaite’s
,
and
little
O’Reilly’s
—
of
course
,
they’ll
see
her
at
old
Smith’s
,
or
Mrs
Saunders’s
,
or
some
such
house
—
and
all
depends
on
their
verdict
.
”
“
I
know
what
mine
is
,
”
cried
little
Chough
,
enthusiastically
—
“
that
she
is
the
divinest
woman
,
in
the
cold
,
imperial
style
,
with
a
latent
and
strange
smouldering
passion
,
that
I
ever
set
eyes
on
.
And
as
to
that
flabby
elephant
Posthlethwaite
,
and
that
little
hop
,
skip
,
and
jump
of
an
impudent
jackanapes
O’Reilly
,
I
wonder
how
you
can
think
their
opinion
worth
having
,
or
,
indeed
,
their
presence
supportable
.
”
At
this
grand
winding
up
Mrs
Argiropoulo
laughed
loudly
.
“
I
know
you
don’t
like
those
young
men
,
”
she
said
.
“
Posthlethwaite’s
your
rival
,
they
say
;
he
writes
even
more
improper
things
than
you
do
;
and
you
can’t
forgive
Thaddy
O’Reilly
calling
your
poems
the
loves
of
the
cannibals
.
Oh
,
I
know
you
poets
!
Now
,
shall
I
drive
you
home
?
What’s
your
address
?
”
This
was
an
old
joke
,
for
Mr
Cosmo
Chough
always
surrounded
his
dwelling‐place
with
mystery
,
and
had
his
letters
addressed
to
his
office
.
“
Pray
don’t
inconvenience
yourself
,
”
he
said
in
a
stately
way
;
“
set
me
down
at
the
corner
of
Park
Lane
.
I
shall
walk
home
in
less
than
a
minute
from
there
.
”
“
To
the
corner
of
Park
Lane
,
”
ordered
Mrs
Argiropoulo
of
her
footman
,
who
knew
,
as
well
as
his
mistress
and
every
other
creature
in
what
they
called
London
,
that
Mr
Cosmo
Chough
lived
in
a
secluded
terrace
in
Canonbury
.
CHAPTER
IV
.
ANNE
BROWN
found
that
Hamlin
,
or
,
as
he
studiously
put
it
,
Mrs
Macgregor
,
had
made
several
engagements
for
her
before
her
arrival
;
and
before
she
could
thoroughly
realise
that
the
school
,
the
journey
from
Coblenz
,
were
things
of
the
past
,
she
found
herself
being
led
about
,
passively
,
half
unconsciously
,
through
the
mazes
of
æsthetic
London
.
It
was
all
very
hazy
:
Anne
was
informed
that
this
and
that
person
was
coming
to
dinner
or
lunch
at
Hammersmith
;
that
this
or
that
person
hoped
she
would
come
and
dine
or
take
tea
somewhere
or
other
;
that
such
or
such
a
lady
was
going
to
take
her
to
see
some
one
or
other’s
studio
,
or
to
introduce
her
at
some
other
person’s
house
.
She
knew
that
they
were
all
either
distinguished
poets
,
or
critics
,
or
painters
,
or
musicians
,
or
distinguished
relations
and
friends
of
the
above
;
that
they
all
received
her
as
if
they
had
heard
of
her
from
their
earliest
infancy
;
that
they
pressed
her
to
have
tea
,
and
strawberries
,
and
claret‐cup
,
and
cakes
,
and
asked
her
what
she
thought
of
this
picture
or
that
poem
;
that
they
lived
in
grim
,
smut‐engrained
houses
in
Bloomsbury
,
or
rose‐grown
cottages
at
Hampstead
,
with
just
the
same
sort
of
weird
furniture
,
partly
Japanese
,
partly
Queen
Anne
,
partly
medieval
;
with
blue‐and‐white
china
and
embroidered
chasubles
stuck
upon
the
walls
if
they
were
rich
,
and
twopenny
screens
and
ninepenny
pots
if
they
were
poor
,
but
with
no
further
differences
;
and
,
finally
,
that
they
were
all
intimately
acquainted
,
and
spoke
of
each
other
as
being
,
or
just
having
missed
being
,
the
most
brilliant
or
promising
specimens
of
whatever
they
happened
to
be
.
At
first
Anne
felt
very
shy
and
puzzled
;
but
after
a
few
days
the
very
vagueness
which
she
felt
about
all
these
men
and
women
,
these
artists
,
critics
,
poets
,
and
relatives
,
who
were
perpetually
reappearing
as
on
a
merry‐go‐round
,
—
nay
,
the
very
cloudiness
as
to
the
identity
of
these
familiar
faces
—
the
very
confusion
as
to
whether
they
were
one
,
two
,
or
three
different
individuals
,
—
produced
in
Miss
Brown
an
indifference
,
an
ease
,
almost
a
familiarity
,
like
that
which
we
may
experience
towards
the
vague
,
unindividual
company
met
on
a
steamer
or
at
a
hotel
.
And
little
by
little
,
out
of
this
crowd
of
people
who
seemed
to
look
,
and
to
dress
,
and
to
talk
very
much
alike
,
—
venerable
bearded
men
,
who
were
the
heads
of
great
schools
of
painting
,
or
poetry
,
or
criticism
,
or
were
the
papas
of
great
offspring
;
elderly
,
quaintly
dressed
ladies
,
who
were
somebody’s
wife
,
or
mother
,
or
sister
;
youngish
men
,
with
manners
at
once
exotically
courteous
,
and
curiously
free
and
easy
,
in
velveteen
coats
and
mustard‐coloured
shooting‐jackets
or
elegiac‐looking
dress‐coats
,
all
rising
in
poetry
,
or
art
,
or
criticism
;
young
ladies
,
varying
from
sixteen
to
six‐and‐thirty
,
with
hair
cut
like
medieval
pages
,
or
tousled
like
mœnads
,
or
tucked
away
under
caps
like
eighteenth‐century
housekeepers
,
habited
in
limp
and
stayless
garments
,
picturesque
and
economical
,
with
Japanese
chintzes
for
brocade
,
and
flannel
instead
of
stamped
velvets
—
most
of
which
young
ladies
appeared
at
one
period
,
past
,
present
,
or
future
,
to
own
a
connection
with
the
Slade
school
,
and
all
of
whom
,
when
not
poets
or
painters
themselves
,
were
the
belongings
of
some
such
,
or
madly
in
love
with
the
great
sonneteer
such
a
one
,
or
the
great
colourist
such
another
;
—
out
of
all
this
confusion
there
began
gradually
to
detach
themselves
and
assume
consistency
in
Anne’s
mind
one
or
two
personalities
,
some
of
whom
attracted
,
and
some
of
whom
repelled
her
,
as
we
shall
see
further
on
;
but
to
all
these
people
,
vague
or
distinct
,
attractive
or
repulsive
,
Miss
Brown
felt
a
kind
of
gratitude
—
something
,
in
an
infinitesimal
degree
,
of
the
thankfulness
for
undeserved
kindness
and
courtesy
which
constituted
a
large
part
of
her
love
for
Hamlin
.
It
was
a
curious
state
of
things
,
thus
to
be
introduced
by
a
man
whom
she
knew
at
once
so
much
and
so
little
,
to
this
exclusive
and
esoteric
sort
of
people
;
and
whenever
the
thought
would
come
upon
her
how
completely
and
utterly
she
,
the
daughter
of
the
dockyard
workman
of
Spezia
,
the
former
servant
of
the
little
Perrys
,
was
foreign
to
all
this
,
it
made
her
feel
alone
and
giddy
,
like
one
standing
on
a
rock
and
watching
the
waters
below
.
Such
was
the
condition
of
things
when
one
morning
,
about
three
weeks
after
Anne’s
arrival
,
Hamlin
put
upon
the
luncheon‐table
a
note
addressed
to
Miss
Brown
.
“
It’s
an
invitation
to
Mrs
Argiropoulo’s
big
party
on
the
twenty‐seventh
,
”
he
said
;
“
you
must
go
,
Miss
Brown
.
She’s
an
awful
being
herself
;
but
you’ll
see
all
the
most
interesting
people
in
London
at
her
house
.
Edith
Spencer
or
Miss
Pringle
can
take
you
,
if
Aunt
Claudia
feel
too
tired
.
”
“
Aunt
Claudia
always
feels
too
tired
,
”
answered
Mrs
Macgregor
,
in
a
bitter
little
tone
.
Anne
could
not
quite
understand
this
amiable
and
cynical
old
lady
,
who
was
at
once
devotedly
attached
to
her
nephew
,
and
perpetually
railing
at
his
friends
.
A
fear
seized
her
lest
,
in
her
vague
,
almost
somnambulic
introduction
into
æsthetic
society
,
she
might
have
unconsciously
neglected
the
woman
who
,
proud
of
her
birth
as
she
was
,
requested
this
workman’s
daughter
to
address
and
consider
her
as
her
aunt
.
“
Oh
,
won’t
you
go
?
”
cried
Anne
;
“
won’t
you
go
,
Mrs
Macgregor
?
”
“
The
fact
is
,
”
hesitated
Hamlin
,
“
that
—
you
see
—
Mrs
Argiropoulo
invites
comparatively
few
people
,
and
—
”
“
That
she
wants
only
celebrities
,
or
great
folk
,
or
pretty
girls
,
”
interrupted
Aunt
Claudia
,
with
her
friendly
cynicism
,
“
or
,
as
she
expresses
it
,
that
she
wants
no
padding
.
So
you
must
go
with
Mrs
Spencer
or
Miss
Pringle
,
my
dear
.
”
“
But
it
is
abominable
;
it
is
most
rude
of
Mrs
Argiropoulo
;
and
I
certainly
won’t
go
anywhere
where
Aunt
Claudia
has
not
been
invited
.
”
“
Nonsense
,
Nan
,
”
silenced
the
old
lady
;
“
you’re
not
up
to
this
lion‐hunting
world
yet
.
Where
there
are
so
many
geniuses
on
the
loose
,
and
so
many
professed
beauties
,
there
are
no
chairs
for
old
women
,
except
countesses
or
school
board
managers
.
”
“
But
since
you
think
Mrs
Argiropoulo
hateful
,
”
persisted
Anne
,
addressing
Hamlin
,
“
why
should
you
wish
me
to
go
?
You
know
I
would
much
rather
not
;
and
I
think
,
considering
her
rudeness
to
your
aunt
,
you
ought
not
to
wish
me
to
go
.
”
“
As
you
choose
,
Miss
Brown
,
”
cried
Hamlin
,
peevishly
.
“
Don’t
be
absurd
,
Anne
—
you
must
go
,
”
insisted
Mrs
Macgregor
.
“
Listen
:
Watty
has
actually
been
addling
his
brains
doing
dressmaking
;
he
has
invented
a
dress
for
you
to
go
to
the
party
,
so
you
will
break
his
heart
if
you
refuse
.
”
Anne
looked
in
amazement
;
and
Hamlin
reddened
.
“
I
hope
you
will
not
deem
it
a
liberty
on
my
part
,
Miss
Brown
,
”
he
said
;
“
but
as
I
knew
that
this
invitation
was
coming
,
I
ventured
to
make
a
sketch
of
the
sort
of
dress
which
I
think
would
become
you
,
and
to
give
it
to
a
woman
who
has
made
dresses
from
artists’
directions
;
of
course
,
if
you
don’t
think
it
pretty
,
you
won’t
dream
of
putting
it
on
.
But
I
could
not
resist
the
temptation
.
”
Miss
Brown
scarcely
knew
what
to
say
or
feel
:
there
was
in
her
a
moment’s
humiliation
at
being
so
completely
Hamlin’s
property
as
to
warrant
this
;
then
she
felt
grateful
and
ashamed
of
her
ingratitude
.
“
If
you
had
shown
me
the
sketch
,
I
daresay
I
could
have
made
up
the
dress
myself
,
”
she
said
.
“
I
fear
my
sketch
might
not
have
been
very
intelligible
to
any
one
who
had
not
experience
of
making
such
things
.
”
“
Perhaps
not
,
”
answered
Anne
,
thinking
of
all
the
dresses
for
Miss
Curzon
and
the
little
Perrys
which
she
had
made
in
her
day
.
“
It
was
very
good
of
you
,
Mr
Hamlin
.
”
“
What
an
idiot
I
was
to
let
the
cat
out
of
the
bag
!
”
exclaimed
Mrs
Macgregor
when
her
nephew
was
out
of
hearing
.
“
I’ve
spoilt
your
pleasure
in
the
frock
;
and
there’s
Walter
sulking
because
he
thinks
you
won’t
like
it
.
”
“
I
am
very
ungrateful
,
”
said
Anne
,
sighing
as
she
stooped
over
her
book
,
and
feeling
all
the
same
that
she
wished
Hamlin
would
let
her
make
up
her
dresses
herself
.
A
few
days
later
the
dressmaker
came
to
try
on
the
dress
,
or
rather
(
perhaps
because
Hamlin
did
not
wish
Anne
to
see
it
before
it
was
finished
)
its
linings
and
a
small
amount
of
the
Greek
stuff
of
which
it
was
made
;
but
it
was
not
till
the
very
afternoon
of
Mrs
Argiropoulo’s
party
that
the
costume
was
brought
home
finished
.
Miss
Brown
was
by
this
time
tolerably
accustomed
to
the
eccentric
garb
of
æsthetic
circles
,
and
she
firmly
believed
that
it
was
the
only
one
which
a
self‐respecting
woman
might
wear
;
but
when
she
saw
the
dress
which
Hamlin
had
designed
for
her
,
she
could
not
help
shrinking
back
in
dismay
.
It
was
of
that
Cretan
silk
,
not
much
thicker
than
muslin
,
which
is
woven
in
minute
wrinkles
of
palest
yellowy
white
;
it
was
made
,
it
seemed
to
her
,
more
like
a
night‐gown
than
anything
else
,
shapeless
and
yet
clinging
with
large
and
small
folds
,
and
creases
like
those
of
damp
sculptor’s
drapery
,
or
the
garments
of
Mantegna’s
women
.
“
I
must
get
out
a
long
petticoat
,
”
said
Anne
,
appalled
.
“
Oh
please
,
ma’am
,
no
,
”
cried
the
dressmaker
.
“
On
no
account
an
additional
petticoat
—
it
would
ruin
the
whole
effect
.
On
the
contrary
,
you
ought
to
remove
one
of
those
you
have
on
,
because
like
this
the
dress
can’t
cling
properly
.
”
“
I
won’t
have
it
cling
,
”
cried
Miss
Brown
,
resolutely
.
“
I
will
let
alone
the
extra
petticoat
,
but
that’s
as
much
as
I
will
do
.
”
“
As
you
please
,
ma’am
,
”
answered
the
woman
,
and
continued
adjusting
the
limp
garment
with
the
maid’s
assistance
.
Anne
walked
to
the
mirror
.
She
was
almost
terrified
at
the
figure
which
met
her
.
That
colossal
woman
,
with
wrinkled
drapery
clinging
to
her
in
half‐antique
,
half‐medieval
guise
,
—
that
great
solemn
,
theatrical
creature
,
could
that
be
herself
?
“
I
think
,
”
she
said
in
despair
,
“
that
there’s
something
very
odd
about
it
,
Mrs
Perkins
.
It
looks
somehow
all
wrong
.
Are
you
sure
that
something
hasn’t
got
unstitched
?
”
“
No
indeed
,
madam
,
”
answered
the
dressmaker
,
ruffled
in
her
dignity
.
“
I
have
exactly
followed
the
design
;
and
,
”
she
added
,
with
crushing
effect
,
“
as
it’s
I
who
execute
the
most
difficult
designs
for
the
Lyceum
,
I
think
I
may
say
that
it
could
not
be
made
differently
.
”
The
Lyceum
!
Anne
felt
half
petrified
.
What
!
Hamlin
was
having
her
rigged
out
by
a
stage
dressmaker
!
“
Mr
Hamlin
is
down‐stairs
,
Miss
Brown
,
”
hesitated
the
maid
,
as
Anne
bade
her
help
her
out
of
this
mass
of
limp
stuff
.
“
He
said
he
would
wait
to
see
you
after
the
dressmaker
had
left
,
if
you
had
no
objection
.
”
“
Watty
wants
to
see
you
in
your
new
frock
,
my
dear
,
”
said
Mrs
Macgregor
,
putting
her
head
in
at
the
door
.
“
Come
along
.
”
Anne
followed
down‐stairs
,
gathering
all
that
uncanny
white
crape
about
her
.
For
the
first
time
she
felt
a
dull
anger
against
Hamlin
.
He
met
her
in
the
dim
drawing‐room
.
“
My
hair
isn’t
done
yet
,
”
was
all
Miss
Brown
could
say
,
tousling
it
with
her
hands
.
“
Leave
it
like
that
—
oh
,
do
leave
it
like
that
!
”
exclaimed
Hamlin
;
“
you
can’t
think
how
”
—
and
he
paused
and
looked
at
her
,
where
she
stood
before
him
,
stooping
her
massive
head
sullenly
—
“
you
can’t
think
how
beautiful
you
look
,
Anne
!
”
It
was
the
first
time
he
had
called
her
by
her
Christian
name
since
that
scene
,
long
ago
,
in
the
studio
at
Florence
.
“
Forgive
me
,
dear
Miss
Brown
,
”
he
apologised
.
“
I
knew
how
such
a
dress
must
suit
you
,
and
yet
it
has
given
me
quite
a
shock
to
see
you
in
it
.
”
“
It
was
very
kind
of
you
to
have
it
made
for
me
,
”
said
Anne
,
“
and
the
stuff
is
very
pretty
also
;
and
—
and
I
am
so
glad
you
like
me
in
it
.
”
Hamlin
kissed
her
hand
.
He
was
more
than
usually
handsome
,
and
looked
very
happy
.
“
Thank
you
,
”
he
said
;
“
I
must
now
go
home
and
dress
for
that
stupid
dinner‐party
.
I
will
meet
you
at
Mrs
Argiropoulo’s
at
half‐past
ten
or
eleven
.
I
suppose
Edith
Spencer
will
call
for
you
soon
after
dinner
.
Good‐bye
.
”
He
looked
at
her
with
a
kind
of
fervour
,
and
left
the
room
.
Anne
sat
down
.
Why
did
that
dress
make
such
a
difference
to
him
?
Why
did
he
care
so
much
more
for
her
because
she
had
it
on
?
Did
he
care
for
her
only
as
a
sort
of
live
picture
?
she
thought
bitterly
.
But
,
after
all
,
it
was
quite
natural
on
his
part
to
be
pleased
,
since
he
had
invented
the
dress
.
And
it
was
very
good
of
him
to
have
thought
of
her
at
all
.
And
thus
,
in
a
state
of
enjoyable
repentance
,
she
awaited
the
hour
to
go
to
Mrs
Argiropoulo
.
Mrs
Spencer
,
a
very
lovable
and
laughable
little
woman
,
whose
soul
was
divided
between
her
babies
and
fierce
rancours
against
all
enemies
of
pre‐Raphaelitism
,
hereditary
,
in
virtue
of
her
father
,
Andrew
Saunders
,
in
her
family
,
came
punctually
,
marvellously
attired
in
grey
cashmere
medieval
garments
,
a
garland
of
parsley
and
gilt
oak‐leaves
in
her
handsome
red
hair
.
On
seeing
Anne
,
who
stood
awaiting
her
by
the
fireplace
,
she
could
not
repress
an
exclamation
of
admiration
.
“
Yes
,
”
answered
Anne
,
unaccustomed
to
have
her
looks
admired
at
Florence
and
at
Coblenz
;
“
it
is
a
very
wonderful
costume
,
isn’t
it
?
Mr
Hamlin
designed
it
for
me
.
I
think
it
was
so
kind
of
him
;
don’t
you
?
”
“
Kind
?
I
see
nothing
kind
about
it
.
Walter
”
(
she
always
spoke
of
him
thus
familiarly
,
because
he
had
worked
as
a
youth
in
her
father’s
studio
)
“
is
simply
head
over
ears
in
love
with
you
,
my
dear
.
”
Anne
shook
her
head
.
“
Oh
no
,
”
she
answered
,
with
a
sort
of
reasoned
conviction
,
“
he
is
merely
very
good
to
me
,
that’s
all
—
and
perhaps
he
likes
me
also
,
of
course
.
But
that’s
all
.
”
“
You
know
nothing
of
the
world
,
Annie
;
and
still
less
of
Walter
.
He
has
never
in
his
life
been
fond
of
any
one
except
when
in
love
.
I’ve
not
known
him
these
fifteen
years
for
nothing
.
”
“
I
think
you
are
mistaken
,
”
said
Anne
,
quietly
.
“
I
think
you
are
not
aware
,
my
dear
girl
,
that
you
are
the
most
beautiful
woman
Walter
has
ever
seen
.
”
BOOK
IV
.
(
Continued
)
MISS
BROWN
.
CHAPTER
V.
MISS
BROWN
felt
very
excited
as
the
brougham
drew
up
at
Mrs
Argiropoulo’s
,
and
they
entered
her
large
house
,
blazing
with
lights
and
crammed
with
flowers
.
She
followed
Mrs
Spencer
timidly
up‐stairs
;
but
the
men
who
crowded
the
landing
never
guessed
that
this
majestic
and
imperturbable
creature
could
possibly
be
nervous
.
At
the
top
of
the
stairs
,
receiving
her
guests
,
an
occupation
(
called
seeing
a
few
friends
)
which
excluded
her
from
her
own
drawing‐room
the
best
part
of
the
evening
,
was
Mrs
Argiropoulo
,
gorgeous
in
old
lace
and
diamonds
,
and
withal
excessively
vulgar
.
“
I
am
so
glad
to
see
you
,
dear
Miss
Brown
,
”
she
exclaimed
to
Anne’s
astonishment
,
despatching
the
other
comers
with
a
mere
frigid
handshake
.
“
I
do
think
it
is
so
good
of
you
to
come
.
”
“
I
wanted
to
come
.
”
“
You
are
such
a
darling
,
”
went
on
the
fat
Greek
lady
.
“
Come
along
—
I
have
kept
seats
for
you
and
Mrs
Spencer
for
the
recitation
.
Dear
old
Gosselin
is
going
to
recite
for
us
—
he
is
staying
with
us
.
I
beg
your
pardon
”
—
this
last
remark
was
addressed
to
a
compact
crowd
of
ladies
and
gentlemen
on
the
threshold
of
the
largest
reception‐room
,
into
which
the
lady
of
the
house
summarily
elbowed
her
way
.
“
Follow
me
,
”
she
whispered
,
as
Anne
,
bewildered
among
the
lights
and
noise
,
tried
to
pick
her
way
over
the
trailing
skirts
,
and
every
one
turned
to
stare
as
she
passed
—
“
Here
,
Euphrosyne
”
—
perceiving
one
of
her
big
bouncing
daughters
in
the
crowd
—
“
I
want
to
introduce
you
to
Miss
Brown
.
Do
keep
that
chair
to
the
left
for
the
Duchess
of
Orkney
—
mind
.
”
The
spacious
drawing‐room
was
filled
,
as
for
a
theatrical
performance
,
with
rows
of
chairs
,
wellnigh
occupied
already
.
Into
the
very
first
of
these
Mrs
Argiropoulo
led
Anne
and
Mrs
Spencer
.
“
Sit
down
,
”
she
whispered
.
“
I
do
hope
you’ll
enjoy
yourself
,
Miss
Brown
.
You’ll
hear
Gosselin
beautifully
here
.
Oh
dear
,
there’s
the
dear
Marchioness
of
Epsom
;
goodbye
”
—
and
she
whirled
off
her
portly
person
.
“
Goodness
!
”
whispered
Mrs
Spencer
,
“
old
Argey
has
actually
put
us
into
the
best
places
!
”
Anne
looked
round
.
In
front
was
a
vacant
space
,
with
an
open
piano
,
and
some
chairs
in
a
corner
facing
the
company
.
All
round
and
behind
were
chairs
,
and
only
a
little
gangway
remained
leading
to
the
piano
,
next
to
where
Mrs
Argiropoulo
had
placed
Anne
.
She
had
never
seen
such
a
crowd
of
magnificently
and
oddly
dressed
people
in
her
life
.
Old
ladies
in
velvet
and
diamonds
,
young
ones
in
Worth
toilets
,
or
weirdly
attired
in
lank
robes
and
draperies
,
with
garlands
of
lilies
or
turbans
,
or
strings
of
sequins
in
their
disorderly
locks
.
“
I
scarcely
know
any
one
here
,
”
said
Mrs
Spencer
,
looking
round
like
a
rapid
little
bird
,
“
except
one
or
two
artists
—
there
are
three
or
four
R.A.’s
—
horrible
creatures
,
to
think
the
public
is
so
wickedly
infatuate
as
to
buy
their
pictures
!
Will
Englishmen
ever
have
any
poetic
feeling
in
art
?
Papa
would
rather
die
than
be
an
Academician
.
There’s
little
Thaddy
O’Reilly
—
horrid
little
jackanapes
—
in
the
door
.
That
old
flat‐faced
man
is
Lord
Durrant
,
the
critic
.
All
the
frumpy
people
with
the
diamonds
must
be
peeresses
,
I’m
sure
.
There’s
Cosmo
Chough
just
come
in
,
—
they’re
all
looking
about
for
somebody
or
other
.
There’s
Browning
talking
to
old
Argiropoulo
.
Oh
,
here’s
little
Thaddy
!
How
do
you
do
,
Mr
O’Reilly
?
”
Mr
O’Reilly
,
a
callow
critic
who
united
æstheticism
with
frivolity
,
bowed
,
and
cast
curious
glances
at
Anne
.
For
a
moment
she
felt
horribly
ungrateful
about
the
dress
.
She
was
sure
that
little
O’Reilly
was
thinking
that
it
was
a
night‐gown
.
“
Who’s
the
lion
to‐night
?
”
asked
Mrs
Spencer
.
Mr
O’Reilly
fixed
his
eyes
on
Anne
,
and
answered
languidly
,
with
a
faint
smile
—
“
Why
,
how
can
you
ask
,
Mrs
Spencer
?
Have
we
not
all
been
invited
expressly
to
meet
Monsieur
Gosselin
and
his
charming
friends
,
the
ladies
from
the
French
comedy
?
No
one
comes
to
see
lions
or
lionesses
here
,
it
is
much
too
intellectual
for
that
.
”
“
Do
tell
me
who
is
the
lion
of
to‐night
,
”
asked
Mrs
Spencer
,
laughing
.
“
Haven’t
I
told
you
that
there
never
are
lions
here
?
only
an
occasional
man
of
genius
,
shipped
over
fresh
,
between
petroleum
tins
and
sewing‐machines
,
from
America
,
may
stray
in
in
top‐boots
and
a
red
flannel
shirt
—
or
it
so
happens
that
a
beautiful
woman
is
first
noticed
here
—
or
Victor
Hugo
walks
in
quite
casually
to
tea
—
or
the
ghost
of
Byron
mistakes
this
for
Westminster
Abbey
.
Oh
,
no
lions
,
never
.
Besides
,
here
is
Monsieur
Gosselin
,
and
here
is
Mademoiselle
Meringue
and
Madame
Gauffre
just
come
in
.
You
see
,
Miss
Brown
,
how
perfectly
true
it
is
that
we
are
to
meet
them
.
They
are
taking
their
place
behind
the
piano
.
Yes
,
that
is
Madame
Gauffre
with
the
diamond
butterfly
.
You
perceive
how
we
are
to
have
the
pleasure
of
making
their
acquaintance
.
Do
you
remark
the
vacant
space
round
the
piano
?
Miss
Euphrosyne
Argiropoulo
and
her
sister
are
alone
privileged
to
enter
it
,
and
the
waiters
also
,
to
talk
to
Monsieur
Gosselin
and
his
fair
comrades
,
and
offer
them
refreshments
.
It
is
what
I
call
a
moral
cordon
sanitaire
,
separating
these
artistes
from
the
highly
respectable
company
all
round
.
”
“
How
horrible
!
”
said
Anne
;
“
and
do
they
pay
them
to
be
insulted
like
that
?
”
“
Pay
them
?
oh
,
never
.
The
Argiropoulos
are
far
too
delicate
for
that
.
Monsieur
Gosselin
and
mesdames
of
the
comedy
are
intimate
friends
of
the
house
:
they
have
been
dining
here
,
and
they
are
so
kind
as
to
recite
a
piece
or
two
to
Mrs
Argiropoulo’s
guests
.
Let
me
see
—
what’s
he
going
to
recite
—
ah
—
‘Un
Beignet.’
That
will
be
delicious
.
”
Gosselin
had
come
forward
,
his
opera‐hat
in
his
hand
,
and
begun
to
recite
.
It
was
a
very
delightful
performance
,
and
Anne
enjoyed
it
greatly
.
Besides
,
it
was
a
great
relief
to
find
that
this
entertainment
was
a
performance
,
and
not
as
she
had
dreaded
,
a
series
of
introductions
and
conversations
with
celebrities
.
There
was
a
dead
silence
during
Gosselin’s
recitation
,
except
near
the
door
,
where
people
kept
pressing
in
and
out
.
When
he
had
ceased
,
Anne
looked
round
.
She
was
surprised
at
the
aspect
of
many
of
the
company
.
They
had
evidently
not
been
listening
at
all
,
but
looking
about
,
straining
to
see
some
one
in
the
front
rows
.
In
a
minute
the
little
gangway
leading
to
the
piano
was
crowded
.
Posthlethwaite
,
whom
she
had
met
several
times
before
,
was
elbowing
his
unwieldy
person
—
a
Japanese
lily
bobbing
out
of
the
button‐hole
of
his
ancestral
dress‐coat
—
towards
her
.
He
had
scarcely
begun
a
description
of
a
picture
which
he
had
just
seen
,
representing
“
Aphrodite
tripping
with
pink
little
feet
across
the
dimpled
sea
sands
,
”
when
Mrs
Argiropoulo
came
up
with
several
gentlemen
about
her
,
whom
she
began
rapidly
to
introduce
to
Anne
:
two
of
them
were
famous
painters
;
one
a
well‐known
sculptor
;
another
was
an
aristocratic
drawing‐room
novelist
;
the
fifth
a
man
of
fashion
.
They
all
stood
in
the
gangway
around
Anne’s
chair
,
while
Posthlethwaite
,
who
was
not
the
person
to
be
ousted
,
propped
his
elephantine
person
against
the
end
of
the
piano
,
and
leaning
down
his
flabby
flat‐cheeked
face
and
mop
of
tow
,
continued
conversing
with
Miss
Brown
,
regardless
of
the
new‐comers
,
who
exchanged
smiles
as
they
listened
to
him
with
much
more
amused
attention
than
they
had
listened
to
Gosselin
.
Anne
was
very
bewildered
;
and
as
she
answered
the
remarks
of
the
party
surrounding
her
,
she
became
aware
that
the
people
behind
were
all
looking
in
her
direction
—
looking
,
doubtless
,
at
Gosselin
and
his
ladies
behind
the
piano
,
or
at
Posthlethwaite
.
For
a
moment
Anne
turned
round
,
wondering
whether
she
should
see
Hamlin
.
But
instead
of
Hamlin
,
her
eyes
met
a
face
as
familiar
as
his
—
a
dark
,
rather
snub
face
,
with
bushy
black
beard
and
hair
,
which
emerged
high
above
the
heads
of
a
knot
of
literary
and
political
celebrities
.
She
started
imperceptibly
,
but
turned
away
,
and
looked
towards
the
piano
,
where
Madame
Gauffre
had
begun
to
recite
,
her
plump
little
black
figure
standing
out
against
the
moonlight
flooding
through
the
window
,
in
strange
contrast
to
the
yellow
light
of
the
room
,
in
which
dimly
loomed
the
tops
of
trees
and
the
towers
of
Westminster
.
Could
it
be
her
cousin
Dick
?
Anne
rarely
mistook
people’s
faces
,
and
least
of
all
was
it
possible
for
her
to
mistake
Richard
Brown’s
,
though
she
had
not
seen
him
since
that
morning
in
Florence
.
But
what
should
Richard
be
doing
here
,
in
this
fashionable
party
?
It
was
evidently
a
mere
accidental
resemblance
,
but
it
brought
up
a
painful
train
of
thought
.
Anne
had
once
or
twice
written
to
her
cousin
and
guardian
from
school
,
in
a
formal
cold
way
,
and
he
had
let
her
know
that
he
had
become
a
partner
in
the
military
foundry
,
and
had
changed
his
address
.
She
had
got
a
vague
idea
that
he
was
now
rich
.
But
she
had
not
yet
let
him
know
of
her
arrival
in
England
,
and
she
felt
ungrateful
and
rather
ashamed
,
for
,
after
all
,
he
had
always
wished
her
well
,
and
had
been
her
playfellow
.
If
he
should
have
thought
that
she
was
ashamed
of
him
?
Heaven
knows
that
was
not
her
feeling
,
but
she
felt
against
Richard
Brown
a
vague
,
instinctive
aversion
,
as
to
something
insulting
and
degrading
to
herself
.
She
determined
,
however
,
to
write
to
him
the
very
next
day
.
With
a
shrill
exclamation
and
a
pert
curtsy
,
Madame
Gauffre
,
who
was
reciting
the
part
of
a
schoolgirl
of
fifteen
,
suddenly
came
to
an
end
.
“
How
do
you
do
,
Annie
?
”
said
a
voice
behind
her
.
She
turned
round
.
It
was
Richard
Brown
.
“
I
saw
you
as
soon
as
I
came
in
,
”
he
said
,
calmly
pushing
aside
the
astonished
Posthlethwaite
,
“
but
I
have
only
now
been
able
to
make
my
way
here
.
How
do
you
like
Madame
Gauffre
?
don’t
you
think
she’s
delightful
?
or
rather
,
I
ought
to
ask
,
how
do
you
like
London
?
”
The
voice
was
always
that
same
deep
one
,
which
,
when
lowered
to
a
whisper
,
had
something
curiously
hot
and
passionate
about
it
;
but
the
accent
and
the
easy
worldly
manner
seemed
as
if
they
could
not
belong
to
Richard
Brown
.
“
Who
the
deuce
is
that
fellow
?
”
asked
Posthlethwaite
angrily
of
Mrs
Spencer
.
“
I
don’t
know
—
I’ve
never
seen
him
.
Do
you
know
,
Mr
O’Reilly
,
who
that
big
black
man
is
,
that
has
just
come
up
to
Miss
Brown
.
Not
one
of
our
set
,
that’s
certain
.
”
“
Oh
Lord
,
no
!
”
answered
the
little
journalist
.
“
You
don’t
read
newspapers
in
your
set
,
do
you
?
”
“
We
always
read
the
‘Athenæum
,
’
”
answered
Mrs
Spencer
,
seriously
.
“
Newspapers
are
Cimmerian
inventions
,
”
said
Posthlethwaite
.
“
I’m
a
republican
,
red
,
incarnadine
,
a
démocrate
for
Robespierre
;
but
I
never
take
up
a
paper
,
except
to
see
which
of
my
friends
have
left
town
.
”
Thaddy
O’Reilly
laughed
.
“
Oh
,
well
,
you
won’t
find
Education
Brown
in
the
‘Athenæum
,
’
Mrs
Spencer
—
a
mere
barbarian
,
Goth
,
Philistine
,
but
well
known
in
Philistia
.
He’s
a
tremendous
Radical
,
goes
in
for
disestablishment
,
secular
teaching
;
an
awful
fellow
for
obligatory
education
and
paupers
;
he’ll
be
in
Parliament
some
day
soon
,
for
he’s
backed
by
all
the
black
trade
.
”
“
Surely
it
is
very
easy
to
feed
paupers
,
as
people
used
to
,
don’t
you
know
,
in
Chaucer
?
”
said
Mrs
Spencer
,
simply
and
seriously
.
Young
O’Reilly
went
into
an
inaudible
but
convulsive
giggle
.
“
Anyhow
,
that’s
Brown
—
‘Peace
by
Expensive
Warfare
Brown’
we
call
him
.
Look
at
him
;
he’s
a
force
in
his
world
,
as
your
father
is
in
yours
.
”
“
I
wish
he’d
keep
in
his
own
coal‐cinders
,
”
retorted
Posthlethwaite
.
“
What
business
has
he
to
talk
to
—
”
“
By
Jove
!
”
exclaimed
O’Reilly
,
“
it
never
struck
me
,
—
Anne
Brown
—
Richard
Brown
,
—
perhaps
they’re
relations
!
”
“
What
do
you
think
of
her
?
”
whispered
Mrs
Argiropoulo
to
the
little
knot
of
artists
whom
she
had
assembled
.
Posthlethwaite
,
as
usual
,
answered
for
the
company
.
“
’Tis
the
body
of
a
goddess
;
we
must
give
it
the
soul
of
a
woman
.
”
“
That’s
Hamlin’s
look‐out
,
”
answered
Paints
,
the
R.A.
“
Why
,
what’s
become
of
him
?
”
they
all
asked
.
“
Surely
he
was
to
be
here
.
”
“
Oh
,
be
sure
he’s
lurking
around
here
,
”
answered
O’Reilly
;
“
of
course
he
keeps
in
the
background
—
enjoys
his
triumph
from
afar
.
You
don’t
sit
in
front
of
your
own
picture
on
the
first
Academy
day
,
do
you
,
Paints
?
”
“
Mr
Posthlethwaite
,
will
you
take
Miss
Brown
in
to
supper
?
”
cried
Mrs
Argiropoulo
,
who
was
working
up
and
down
the
crowd
.
Richard
Brown
had
already
given
Anne
his
arm
.
“
That
can’t
be
,
”
cried
Mrs
Argiropoulo
.
“
Mr
Posthlethwaite
must
take
you
in
,
dear
.
Dear
Mr
Brown
,
will
you
take
in
my
daughter
?
”
“
Good‐bye
,
Annie
,
”
whispered
Richard
Brown
.
“
I
will
come
and
see
you
to‐morrow
.
”
And
he
let
his
cousin
be
borne
away
in
triumph
by
Posthlethwaite
.
“
Of
course
,
Mr
Posthlethwaite
must
take
in
Miss
