No trivial ghost was beckoning him; it was the ghost, with unseen face and rosy finger, which comes to men when youth has gone.
Miranda, hearing him so silent, rose. At this hour it was her master's habit to scratch paper. She, who seldom scratched anything, because it was not delicate, felt dimly that this was what he should be doing. She held up a slim foot and touched his knee. Receiving no discouragement, she delicately sprang into his lap, and, forgetting for once her modesty, placed her arms on his chest, and licked his face all over.
It was while receiving this embrace that Hilary saw Mr. Stone and the little model returning across the garden. The old man was walking very rapidly, holding out the fragment of a broken stick. He was extremely pink.
“I cut him over the legs,” said Mr. Stone. “I do not regret it”; and he walked on to his room.
“It was a little dog. The man kicked it, and Mr. Stone hit him. He broke his stick. There were several men; they threatened us.” She looked up at Hilary. “I-I was frightened. Oh! Mr. Dallison, isn't he funny?”
“He wanted to hit them again, after his stick was broken. Then a policeman came, and they all ran away.”
“That was quite as it should be,” said Hilary. “And what did you do?”
Perceiving that she had not as yet made much effect, the little model cast down her eyes.
“I shouldn't have been frightened if you had been there!”
“Heavens!” muttered Hilary. “Mr. Stone is far more valiant than I.”
“I don't think he is,” she replied stubbornly, and again looked up at him.
“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:
An ironic “Yes?” came from the other corner of the cab.
“There is some trouble with the little model.”
“This man Hughs has become infatuated with her. He has even said, I believe, that he was coming to see 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?”
A curious noise, like a little strangled laugh, fell on Hilary's ears.
“It was good of you to tell me, considering that we go our own ways. What made you?”