"
Bianca's voice, which had the self-distrustful ring of modern music,
suited her personality.
A glance passed between Stephen and his wife.
"That's B. all over!" it seemed to say....
"Hound Street, where they live, is a horrid place."
It was Thyme who spoke, and everybody looked round at her.
"How do you know that?" asked Cecilia.
"I went to see."
"With whom?"
"Martin."
The lips of the young man whose name she mentioned curled sarcastically.
Hilary asked gently:
"Well, my dear, what did you see?"
"Most of the doors are open---"
Bianca murmured: "That doesn't tell us much."
"On the contrary," said Martin suddenly, in a deep bass voice, "it tells
you everything. Go on."
"The Hughs live on the top floor at No. 1. It's the best house in
the street. On the ground-floor are some people called Budgen; he's a
labourer, and she's lame. They've got one son. The Hughs have let off
the first-floor front-room to an old man named Creed---"
"Yes, I know," Cecilia muttered.
"He makes about one and tenpence a day by selling papers. The back-room
on that floor they let, of course, to your little model, Aunt B."
"She is not my model now."
There was a silence such as falls when no one knows how far the matter
mentioned is safe to, touch on. Thyme proceeded with her report.
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