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nlight　had　come　down　like　a　flight　of　milk…white　pigeons；　with　outspread　wings；　vibrating　faintly　as　though　yet　in　motion；　they　covered　everything。　　Nothing　stirred。　　A　clock　was　striking　two。　　Past　that　flight　of　milk…white　pigeons　were　black　walls　as　yet　unvisited。　　Then；　in　the　stillness；　Hilary　seemed　to　hear；　deep　and　very　faint；　the　sound　as　of　some　monster　breathing；　or　the　far　beating　of　muffed　drums。　　From　every　side　of　the　pale　sleeping　town　it　seemed　to　come；　under　the　moon's　cold　glamour。　　It　rose；　and　fell；　and　rose；　with　a　weird；　creepy　rhythm；　like　a　groaning　of　the　hopeless　and　hungry。　　A　hansom　cab　rattled　down　the　High　Street；　Hilary　strained　his　ears　after　the　failing　clatter　of　hoofs　and　bell。　　They　died；　there　was　silence。　　Creeping　nearer；　drumming；　throbbing；　he　heard　again　the　beating　of　that　vast　heart。　It　grew　and　grew。　　His　own　heart　began　thumping。　　Then；　emerging　from　that　sinister　dumb　groan；　he　distinguished　a　crunching　sound；　and　knew　that　it　was　no　muttering　echo　of　men's　struggles；　but　only　the　waggons　journeying　to　Covent　Garden　Market。




CHAPTER　XIV

A　WALK　ABROAD

Thyme　Dallison；　in　the　midst　of　her　busy　life；　found　leisure　to　record　her　recollections　and　ideas　in　the　pages　of　old　school　notebooks。　　She　had　no　definite　purpose　in　so　doing；　nor　did　she　desire　the　solace　of　luxuriating　in　her　private　feelingsthis　she　would　have　scorned　as　out　of　date　and　silly。　　It　was　done　from　the　fulness　of　youthful　energy；　and　from　the　desire　to　express　oneself　that　was　〃in　the　air。〃　　It　was　everywhere；　that　desire：　among　her　fellow…students；　among　her　young　men　friends；　in　her　mother's　drawing…room；　and　her　aunt's　studio。　　Like　sentiment　and　marriage　to　the　Victorian　miss；　so　was　this　duty　to　express　herself　to　Thyme；　and；　going　hand…in…hand　with　it；　the　duty　to　have　a　good　and　jolly　youth。　　She　never　read　again　the　thoughts　which　she　recorded；　she　took　no　care　to　lock　them　up；　knowing　that　her　liberty；　development；　and　pleasure　were　sacred　things　which　no　one　would　dream　of　touching　she　kept　them　stuffed　down　in　a　drawer　among　her　handkerchiefs　and　ties　and　blouses；　together　with　the　indelible　fragment　of　a　pencil。

This　journal；　naive　and　slipshod；　recorded　without　order　the　current　impression　of　things　on　her　mind。

In　the　early　morning　of　the　4th　of　May　she　sat；　night…gowned；　on　the　foot　of　her　white　bed；　with　chestnut　hair　all　fluffy　about　her　neck；　eyes　bright　and　cheeks　still　rosy　with　sleep；　scribbling　away　and　rubbing　one　bare　foot　against　the　other　in　the　ecstasy　of　self…　expression。　　Now　and　then；　in　the　middle　of　a　sentence；　she　would　stop　and　look　out　of　the　window；　or　stretch　herself　deliciously；　as　though　life　were　too　full　of　joy　for　her　to　finish　anything。

〃I　went　into　grandfather's　room　yesterday；　and　stayed　while　he　was　dictating　to　the　little　model。　　I　do　think　grandfather's　so　splendid。　Martin　says　an　enthusiast　is　worse　than　useless；　people；　he　says；　can't　afford　to　dabble　in　ideas　or　dreams。　　He　calls　grandfather's　idea　paleolithic。　　I　hate　him　to　be　laughed　at。　　Martin's　so　cocksure。　　I　don't　think　he'd　find　many　men　of　eighty　who'd　bathe　in　the　Serpentine　all　the　year　round；　and　do　his　own　room；　cook　his　own　food；　and　live　on　about　ninety　pounds　a　year　out　of　his　pension　of　three　hundred；　and　give　all　the　rest　away。　　Martin　says　that's　unsound；　and　the　'Book　of　Universal　Brotherhood'　rot。　　I　don't　care　if　it　is；　it's　fine　to　go　on　writing　it　as　he　does　all　day。　　Martin　admits　that。　　That's　the　worst　of　him：　he's　so　cool；　you　can't　score　him　off；　he　seems　to　be　always　criticising　you；　it　makes　me　wild。。。。　That　little　model　is　a　hopeless　duffer。　　I　could　have　taken　it　all　down　in　half　the　time。　　She　kept　stopping　and　looking　up　with　that　mouth　of　hers　half　open；　as　if　she　had　all　day　before　her。　Grandfather's　so　absorbed　he　doesn't　notice；　he　likes　to　read　the　thing　over　and　over；　to　hear　how　the　words　sound。　　That　girl　would　be　no　good　at　any　sort　of　work；　except　'sitting；'　I　suppose。　　Aunt　B。　used　to　say　she　sat　well。　　There's　something　queer　about　her　face；　it　reminds　me　a　little　of　that　Botticelli　Madonna　in　the　National　Gallery；　the　full…face　one；　not　so　much　in　the　shape　as　in　the　expressionalmost　stupid；　and　yet　as　if　things　were　going　to　happen　to　her。　　Her　hands　and　arms　are　pretty；　and　her　feet　are　smaller　than　mine。　　She's　two　years　older　than　me。　　I　asked　her　why　she　went　in　for　being　a　model；　which　is　beastly　work。　　She　said　she　was　glad　to　get　anything！　　I　asked　her　why　she　didn't　go　into　a　shop　or　into　service。　　She　didn't　answer　at　once；　and　then　said　she　hadn't　had　any　recommendationsdidn't　know　where　to　try；　then；　all　of　a　sudden；　she　grew　quite　sulky；　and　said　she　didn't　want　to。。。。〃

Thyme　paused　to　pencil　in　a　sketch　of　the　little　model's　profile。。。。

〃She　had　on　a　really　pretty　frock；　quite　simple　and　well　madeit　must　have　cost　three　or　four　pounds。　　She　can't　be　so　very　badly　off；　or　somebody　gave　it　her。。。。〃

And　again　Thyme　paused。

〃She　looked　ever　so　much　prettier　in　it　than　she　used　to　in　her　old　brown　skirt；　I　thought　。。。。　　Uncle　Hilary　came　to　dinner　last　night。　We　talked　of　social　questions；　we　always　discuss　things　when　he　comes。　　I　can't　help　liking　Uncle　Hilary；　he　has　such　kind　eyes；　and　he's　so　gentle　that　you　never　lose　your　temper　with　him。　　Martin　calls　him　weak　and　unsatisfactory　because　he's　not　in　touch　with　life。　　I　should　say　it　was　more　as　if　he　couldn't　bear　to　force　anyone　to　do　anything；　he　seems　to　see　both　sides　of　every　question；　and　he's　not　good　at　making　up　his　mind；　of　course。　　He's　rather　like　Hamlet　might　have　been；　only　nobody　seems　to　know　now　what　Hamlet　was　really　like。　　I　told　him　what　I　thought　about　the　lower　classes。　　One　can　talk　to　him。　　I　hate　father's　way　of　making　feeble　little　jokes；　as　if　nothing　were　serious。　　I　said　I　didn't　think　it　was　any　use　to　dabble；　we　ought　to　go　to　the　root　of　everything。　　I　said　that　money　and　class　distinctions　are　two　bogeys　we　have　got　to　lay。　　Martin　says；　when　it　comes　to　real　dealing　with　social　questions　and　the　poor；　all　the　people　we　know　are　amateurs。　　He　says　that　we　have　got　to　shake　ourselves　free　of　all　the　old　sentimental　notions；　and　just　work　at　putting　everything　to　the　test　of　Health。　　Father　calls　Martin　a　'Sanitist'；；　and　Uncle　Hilary　says　that　if　you　wash　people　by　law　they'll　all　be　as　dirty　again　tomorrow。。。。〃

Thyme　paused　again。　　A　blackbird　in　the　garden　of　the　Square　was　uttering　a　long；　low；　chuckling　trill。　　She　ran　to　the　window　and　peeped　out。　　The　bird　was　on　a　plane…tree；　and；　with　throat　uplifted；　was　letting　through　his　yellow　beak　that　delicious　piece　of　self…　expression。　　All　things　he　seemed　to　praisethe　sky；　the　sun；　the　trees；　the　dewy　grass；　himself：

'You　darling！'　thought　Thyme。　　With　a　shudder　of　delight　she　dropped　her　notebook　back　into　the　drawer；　flung　off　her　nightgown；　and　flew　into　her　bath。

That　same　morning　she　slipped　out　quietly　at　ten　o'clock。　　Her　Saturdays　were　free　of　classes；　but　she　had　to　run　the　gauntlet　of　her　mother's　liking　for　her　company　and　her　father's　wish　for　her　to　go　with　him　to　Richmond　and　play　golf。

For　on　Saturdays　Stephen　almost　always　left　the　precincts　of　the　Courts　before　three　o'clock。　　Then；　if　he　could　induce　his　wife　or　daughter　to　accompany　him；　he　liked　to　get　a　round　or　two　in　preparation　for　Sunday；　when　he　always　started　off　at　half…past　ten　and　played　all　day。　　If　Cecilia　and　Thyme　failed　him；　he　would　go　to　his　club；　and　keep　himself　in　touch　with　every　kind　of　social　movement　by　reading　the　reviews。

Thyme　walked　along　with　her　head　up　and　a　wrinkle　in　her　brow；　as　though　she　were　absorbed　in　serious　reflection；　if　admiring　glances　were　flung　at　her；　she　did　not　seem　aware　of　them。　　Passing　not　far　from　Hilary's；　she　entered　the　Broad　Walk；　and　crossed　it　to　the　farther　end。

On　a　railing；　stretching　out　his　long　legs　and　observing　the　passers…　by；　sat　her　cousin；　Martin　Stone。　　He　got　down　as　she　came　up。

〃Late　again；〃　he　said。　　〃Come　on！〃

〃Where　are　we　going　first？〃　　Thyme　asked。

〃The　Notting　Hill　district's　all　we　can　do　to…day　if　we're　to　go　again　to　Mrs。　Hughs'。　　I　must　be　down　at　the　hospital　this　afternoon。〃

Thyme　frowned。　　〃I　do　envy　you　living　by　yourself；　Martin。　　It's　silly　having　to　live　at　home。〃

Martin　did　not　answer；　but　one　nostril　of　his　long　nose　was　seen　to　curve；　and　Thyme　acquiesced　in　this　without　remark。　　They　walked　for　some　minutes　between　tall　houses；　looking　about　them　calmly。　　Then　Martin　said：　〃All　Purceys　round　here。〃

Thyme　nodded。　　Again　there　was　silence；　but　in　these　pauses　there　was　no　embarrassment；　no　consciousness　apparently　that　it　was　silence；　and　their　eyesthose　young；　impatient；　interested　eyeswere　for　ever　busy　observing。

〃Boundary　line。　　We　shall　be　in　a　patch　directly。〃

〃Black？〃　　asked　Thyme。

〃Dark　blueblack　farther　on。〃

They　were　passing　down　a　long；　grey；　curving　road；　whose　narrow　houses；　hopelessly　unpainted；　showed　marks　of　grinding　poverty。　　The　Spring　wind　was　ruffling　straw　and　little　bits　of　paper　in　the　gutters；　under　the　bright　sunlight　a　bleak　and　bitter　struggle　seemed　raging。　　Thyme　said：

〃This　street　gives　me　a　hollow　feeling。〃

Martin　nodded。　　〃　Worse　than　the　real　art