To Cecilia her brother-in-law always seemed an amiable and more or less
pathetic figure. In his literary preoccupations he allowed people to
impose on him. He looked unsubstantial beside the bust of Socrates,
which moved Cecilia strangely--it was so very massive and so very ugly!
She decided not to beat about the bush.
"I've been hearing some odd things from Mrs. Hughs about that little
model, Hilary."
Hilary's smile faded from his eyes, but remained clinging to his lips.
"Indeed!"
Cecilia went on nervously: "Mrs. Hughs says it's because of her that
Hughs behaves so badly. I don't want to say anything against the girl,
but she seems--she seems to have---"
"Yes?" said Hilary.
"To have cast a spell on Hughs, as the woman puts it."
"On Hughs!" repeated Hilary.
Cecilia found her eyes resting on the bust of Socrates, and hastily
proceeded:
"She says he follows her about, and comes down here to lie in wait for
her. It's a most strange business altogether. You went to see them,
didn't you?"
Hilary nodded.
"I've been speaking to Father," Cecilia murmured; "but he's hopeless--I,
couldn't get him to pay the least attention."
Hilary seemed thinking deeply.
"I wanted him," she went on, "to get some other girl instead to come and
copy for him."
"Why?"
Under the seeming impossibility of ever getting any farther, without
saying what she had come to say, Cecilia blurted out:
"Mrs.
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