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But for him it was totally different； she should never never see
him。 She wanted it too much。 There was a kind of wanting that
helpedshe had arrived； with her rich experience； at that
generalisation； and there was another kind that was fatal。 It was
this time the fatal kind； it would prevent。
Well； she saw him the very next day； and on this second occasion it
was quite different； the sense of every syllable he paid for was
fiercely distinct； she indeed felt her progressive pencil； dabbing
as if with a quick caress the marks of his own； put life into every
stroke。 He was there a long timehad not brought his forms filled
out but worked them off in a nook on the counter； and there were
other people as wella changing pushing cluster； with every one to
mind at once and endless right change to make and information to
produce。 But she kept hold of him throughout； she continued； for
herself； in a relation with him as close as that in which； behind
the hated ground glass； Mr。 Buckton luckily continued with the
sounder。 This morning everything changed； but rather to
dreariness； she had to swallow the rebuff to her theory about fatal
desires； which she did without confusion and indeed with absolute
levity； yet if it was now flagrant that he did live close at hand
at Park Chambersand belonged supremely to the class that wired
everything； even their expensive feelings （so that； as he never
wrote； his correspondence cost him weekly pounds and pounds； and he
might be in and out five times a day） there was； all the same；
involved in the prospect； and by reason of its positive excess of
light； a perverse melancholy； a gratuitous misery。 This was at
once to give it a place in an order of feelings on which I shall
presently touch。
Meanwhile； for a month； he was very constant。 Cissy； Mary； never
re…appeared with him； he was always either alone or accompanied
only by some gentleman who was lost in the blaze of his glory。
There was another sense； howeverand indeed there was more than
onein which she mostly found herself counting in the splendid
creature with whom she had originally connected him。 He addressed
this correspondent neither as Mary nor as Cissy； but the girl was
sure of whom it was； in Eaten Square； that he was perpetually
wiring toand all so irreproachably！as Lady Bradeen。 Lady
Bradeen was Cissy； Lady Bradeen was Mary； Lady Bradeen was the
friend of Fritz and of Gussy； the customer of Marguerite； and the
close ally in short （as was ideally right； only the girl had not
yet found a descriptive term that was） of the most magnificent of
men。 Nothing could equal the frequency and variety of his
communications to her ladyship but their extraordinary； their
abysmal propriety。 It was just the talkso profuse sometimes that
she wondered what was left for their real meetingsof the very
happiest people。 Their real meetings must have been constant； for
half of it was appointments and allusions； all swimming in a sea of
other allusions still； tangled in a complexity of questions that
gave a wondrous image of their life。 If Lady Bradeen was Juno it
was all certainly Olympian。 If the girl； missing the answers； her
ladyship's own outpourings； vainly reflected that Cocker's should
have been one of the bigger offices where telegrams arrived as well
as departed； there were yet ways in which； on the whole； she
pressed the romance closer by reason of the very quantity of
imagination it demanded and consumed。 The days and hours of this
new friend； as she came to account him； were at all events
unrolled； and however much more she might have known she would
still have wished to go beyond。 In fact she did go beyond； she
went quite far enough。
But she could none the less； even after a month； scarce have told
if the gentlemen who came in with him recurred or changed； and this
in spite of the fact that they too were always posting and wiring；
smoking in her face and signing or not signing。 The gentlemen who
came in with him were nothing when he was there。 They turned up
alone at other timesthen only perhaps with a dim richness of
reference。 He himself； absent as well as present； was all。 He was
very tall； very fair； and had； in spite of his thick
preoccupations； a good…humour that was exquisite； particularly as
it so often had the effect of keeping him on。 He could have
reached over anybody； and anybodyno matter whowould have let
him； but he was so extraordinarily kind that he quite pathetically
waited； never waggling things at her out of his turn nor saying
〃Here！〃 with horrid sharpness。 He waited for pottering old ladies；
for gaping slaveys； for the perpetual Buttonses from Thrupp's； and
the thing in all this that she would have liked most unspeakably to
put to the test was the possibility of her having for him a
personal identity that might in a particular way appeal。 There
were moments when he actually struck her as on her side； as
arranging to help； to support； to spare her。
But such was the singular spirit of our young friend that she could
remind herself with a pang that when people had awfully good
mannerspeople of that class；you couldn't tell。 These manners
were for everybody； and it might be drearily unavailing for any
poor particular body to be overworked and unusual。 What he did
take for granted was all sorts of facility； and his high
pleasantness； his relighting of cigarettes while he waited； his
unconscious bestowal of opportunities； of boons； of blessings； were
all a part of his splendid security； the instinct that told him
there was nothing such an existence as his could ever lose by。 He
was somehow all at once very bright and very grave； very young and
immensely complete； and whatever he was at any moment it was always
as much as all the rest the mere bloom of his beatitude。 He was
sometimes Everard； as he had been at the Hotel Brighton； and he was
sometimes Captain Everard。 He was sometimes Philip with his
surname and sometimes Philip without it。 In some directions he was
merely Phil； in others he was merely Captain。 There were relations
in which he was none of these things； but a quite different person…
…〃the Count。〃 There were several friends for whom he was William。
There were several for whom； in allusion perhaps to his complexion；
he was 〃the Pink 'Un。〃 Once； once only by good luck； he had；
coinciding comically； quite miraculously； with another person also
near to her； been 〃Mudge。〃 Yes； whatever he was； it was a part of
his happinesswhatever he was and probably whatever he wasn't。
And his happiness was a partit became so little by littleof
something that； almost from the first of her being at Cocker's； had
been deeply with the girl。
CHAPTER V
This was neither more nor less than the queer extension of her
experience； the double life that； in the cage； she grew at last to
lead。 As the weeks went on there she lived more and more into the
world of w