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together with 'Hamlet' and 'King Lear' were all she had seen。
Never was a girl so untouched by thought； or Artyet not stupid；
having； seemingly； a certain natural good taste； only； nothing；
evidently； had come her way。 How could it'Johnny Dromore duce；
et auspice Johnny Dromore！' She had been taken； indeed； to the
National Gallery while at school。 And Lennan had a vision of eight
or ten young maidens trailing round at the skirts of one old
maiden； admiring Landseer's dogs； giggling faintly at Botticelli's
angels； gaping； rustling； chattering like young birds in a
shrubbery。
But with all her surroundings； this child of Johnny Dromoredom was
as yet more innocent than cultured girls of the same age。 If those
grey； mesmeric eyes of hers followed him about； they did so
frankly； unconsciously。 There was no minx in her； so far。
An hour went by； and Dromore did not come。 And the loneliness of
this young creature in her incongruous abode began telling on
Lennan's equanimity。
What did she do in the evenings？
〃Sometimes I go to the theatre with Dad； generally I stay at home。〃
〃And then？〃
〃Oh！ I just read； or talk French。〃
〃What？ To yourself？〃
〃Yes； or to Oliver sometimes； when he comes in。〃
So Oliver came in！
〃How long have you known Oliver？〃
〃Oh！ ever since I was a child。〃
He wanted to say： And how long is that？ But managed to refrain；
and got up to go instead。 She caught his sleeve and said：
〃You're not to go！〃 Saying that she looked as a dog will； going to
bite in fun； her upper lip shortened above her small white teeth
set fast on her lower lip； and her chin thrust a little forward。 A
glimpse of a wilful spirit！ But as soon as he had smiled； and
murmured：
〃Ah！ but I must； you see！〃 she at once regained her manners； only
saying rather mournfully： 〃You don't call me by my name。 Don't you
like it？〃
〃Nell？〃
〃Yes。 It's really Eleanor； of course。 DON'T you like it？〃
If he had detested the name； he could only have answered： 〃Very
much。〃
〃I'm awfully glad！ Good…bye。〃
When he got out into the street； he felt terribly like a man who；
instead of having had his sleeve touched； has had his heart plucked
at。 And that warm； bewildered feeling lasted him all the way home。
Changing for dinner； he looked at himself with unwonted attention。
Yes； his dark hair was still thick； but going distinctly grey；
there were very many lines about his eyes； too； and those eyes；
still eager when they smiled； were particularly deepset； as if life
had forced them back。 His cheekbones were almost 'bopsies' now；
and his cheeks very thin and dark； and his jaw looked too set and
bony below the almost black moustache。 Altogether a face that life
had worn a good deal； with nothing for a child to take a fancy to
and make friends with； that he could see。
Sylvia came in while he was thus taking stock of himself； bringing
a freshly…opened flask of eau…de…Cologne。 She was always bringing
him somethingnever was anyone so sweet in those ways。 In that
grey； low…cut frock； her white； still prettiness and pale…gold
hair； so little touched by Time； only just fell short of real
beauty for lack of a spice of depth and of incisiveness； just as
her spirit lacked he knew not what of poignancy。 He would not for
the world have let her know that he ever felt that lack。 If a man
could not hide little rifts in the lute from one so good and humble
and affectionate； he was not fit to live。
She sang 'The Castle of Dromore' again that night with its queer
haunting lilt。 And when she had gone up； and he was smoking over
the fire； the girl in her dark…red frock seemed to come； and sit
opposite with her eyes fixed on his； just as she had been sitting
while they talked。 Dark red had suited her！ Suited the look on
her face when she said：
〃You're not to go！〃 Odd； indeed； if she had not some devil in her；
with that parentage！
V
Next day they had summoned him from the studio to see a peculiar
phenomenonJohnny Dromore； very well groomed； talking to Sylvia
with unnatural suavity； and carefully masking the goggle in his
eyes！ Mrs。 Lennan ride？ Ah！ Too busy； of course。 Helped Mark
with hiser No！ Really！ Read a lot； no doubt？ Never had any
time for readin' himselfawful bore not having time to read！ And
Sylvia listening and smiling； very still and soft。
What had Dromore come for？ To spy out the land； discover why
Lennan and his wife thought nothing of the word 'outside'whether；
in fact； their household was respectable。 。 。 。 A man must always
look twice at 'what…d'you…call…ems；' even if they have shared his
room at school！ 。 。 。 To his credit； of course； to be so careful
of his daughter； at the expense of time owed to the creation of the
perfect racehorse！ On the whole he seemed to be coming to the
conclusion that they might be useful to Nell in the uncomfortable
time at hand when she would have to go about； seemed even to be
falling under the spell of Sylvia's transparent goodness
abandoning his habitual vigilance against being scored off in
life's perpetual bet； parting with his armour of chaff。 Almost a
relief； indeed； once out of Sylvia's presence； to see that
familiar； unholy curiosity creeping back into his eyes； as though
they were hoping against parental hope to find somethinger
amusing somewhere about that mysterious Mecca of good timesa
'what…d'you…call…it's' studio。 Delicious to watch the conflict
between relief and disappointment。 Alas！ no modelnot even a
statue without clothes； nothing but portrait heads； casts of
animals； and such…like sobrietiesabsolutely nothing that could
bring a blush to the cheek of the young person； or a glow to the
eyes of a Johnny Dromore。
With what curious silence he walked round and round the group of
sheep…dogs； inquiring into them with that long crinkled nose of
his！ With what curious suddenness； he said： 〃Damned good！ You
wouldn't do me one of Nell on horseback？〃 With what dubious
watchfulness he listened to the answer：
〃I might； perhaps； do a statuette of her； if I did； you should have
a cast。〃
Did he think that in some way he was being outmanoeuvered？ For he
remained some seconds in a sort of trance before muttering； as
though clinching a bet：
〃Done！ And if you want to ride with her to get the hang of it； I
can always mount you。〃
When he had gone； Lennan remained staring at his unfinished sheep…
dogs in the gathering dusk。 Again that sense of irritation at
contact with something strange； hostile； uncomprehending！ Why let
these Dromores into his life like this？ He shut the studio； and
went back to the drawing…room。 Sylvia was sitting on the fender；
gazing at the fire； and she edged along so as to rest against his
knees。 The light from a candle on her writing…table was shining on
her hair； her cheek； and chin； that years had so little altered。 A
pretty picture she made； with just that candle flame； swaying
there； burning slowly； surely down the pale waxcandle flame； of
all lifeless things most living； most like a spirit； so bland and
vague； one would hardly have known it was fire at all。 A drift of
wind blew it this way and that：