"Well, good-night!" said Hilary hastily. "You must run off...."That same evening, driving with his wife back from a long, dull dinner, Hilary began:
"I've something to say to you."
An ironic "Yes?" came from the other corner of the cab.
"There is some trouble with the little model.""Really!"
"This man Hughs has become infatuated with her. He has even said, Ibelieve, that he was coming to see you."
"What about?"
"Me."
"And what is he going to say about you?"
"I don't know; some vulgar gossip--nothing true."There was a silence, and in the darkness Hilary moistened his dry lips.
Bianca spoke: "May I ask how you knew of this?""Cecilia told me."
A curious noise, like a little strangled laugh, fell on Hilary's ears.
"I am very sorry," he muttered.
Presently Bianca said:
"It was good of you to tell me, considering that we go our own ways.
What made you?"
"I thought it right."
"And--of course, the man might have come to me!""That you need not have said."
"One does not always say what one ought."
"I have made the child a present of some clothes which she badly needed. So far as I know, that's all I've done!""Of course!"
This wonderful "of course" acted on Hilary like a tonic. He said dryly:
"What do you wish me to do?"
"I?" No gust of the east wind, making the young leaves curl and shiver, the gas jets flare and die down in their lamps, could so have nipped the flower of amity. Through Hilary's mind flashed Stephen's almost imploring words: "Oh, I wouldn't go to her! Women are so funny!"He looked round. A blue gauze scarf was wrapped over his wife's dark head. There, in her corner, as far away from him as she could get, she was smiling. For a moment Hilary had the sensation of being stiffed by fold on fold of that blue gauze scarf, as if he were doomed to drive for ever, suffocated, by the side of this woman who had killed his love for her.
"You will do what you like, of course," she said suddenly.
A desire to laugh seized Hilary. "What do you wish me to do?" "You will do what you like, of course!" Could civilised restraint and tolerance go further?
"B." he said, with an effort, "the wife is jealous. We put the girl into that house--we ought to get her out."Blanca's reply came slowly.
"From the first," she said, "the girl has been your property; do what you like with her. I shall not meddle.""I am not in the habit of regarding people as my property.""No need to tell me that--I have known you twenty years."Doors sometimes slam in the minds of the mildest and most restrained of men.
"Oh, very well! I have told you; you can see Hughs when he comes--or not, as you like.""I have seen him."
Hilary smiled.
"Well, was his story very terrible?"
"He told me no story."
"How was that?"
Blanca suddenly sat forward, and threw back the blue scarf, as though she, too, were stifling. In her flushed face her eyes were bright as stars; her lips quivered.
"Is it likely," she said, "that I should listen? That's enough, please, of these people."Hilary bowed. The cab, bearing them fast home, turned into the last short cut. This narrow street was full of men and women circling round barrows and lighted booths. The sound of coarse talk and laughter floated out into air thick with the reek of paraffin and the scent of frying fish. In every couple of those men and women Hilary seemed to see the Hughs, that other married couple, going home to wedded happiness above the little model's head. The cab turned out of the gay alley.
"Enough, please, of these people!"
That same night, past one o'clock, he was roused from sleep by hearing bolts drawn back. He got up, hastened to the window, and looked out. At first he could distinguish nothing. The moonless night; like a dark bird, had nested in the garden; the sighing of the lilac bushes was the only sound. Then, dimly, just below him, on the steps of the front door, he saw a figure standing.
"Who is that?" he called.
The figure did not move.
"Who are you?" said Hilary again.
The figure raised its face, and by the gleam of his white beard Hilary knew that it was Mr. Stone.
"What is it, sir?" he said. "Can I do anything?""No," answered Mr. Stone. "I am listening to the wind. It has visited everyone to-night." And lifting his hand, he pointed out into the darkness.
