h popular
religion; in the domain of business it dominates the Stock Exchange,
and becomes that "bit of luck" by which all successes and failures are
explained. "If only I had a bit of luck, the whole thing would come
straight... He's got a most magnificent place down at Streatham and a 20
h.p. Fiat, but then, mind you, he's had luck... I 'm sorry the wife's
so late, but she never has any luck over catching trains." Leonard
was superior to these people; he did believe in effort and in a steady
preparation for the change that he desired. But of a heritage that may
expand gradually, he had no conception; he hoped to come to Culture
suddenly, much as the Revivalist hopes to come to Jesus. Those Miss
Schlegels had come to it; they had done the trick; their hands were upon
the ropes, once and for all. And meanwhile, his flat was dark, as well
as stuffy.

Presently there was a noise on the staircase. He shut up Margaret's card
in the pages of Ruskin, and opened the door. A woman entered, of whom
it is simplest to say that she was not respectable. Her appearance was
awesome. She seemed all strings and bell-pulls--ribbons, chains, bead
necklaces that clinked and caught and a boa of azure feathers hung round
her neck, with the ends uneven. Her throat was bare, wound with a double
row of pearls, her arms were bare to the elbows, and might again
be detected at the shoulder, through cheap lace. Her hat, which was
flowery, resembled those punnets, covered with flannel, which we sowed
with mustard and cress in our childhood, and which germinated here yes,
and there no. She wore it on the back of her head. As for her hair, or
rather hairs, they are too complicated to describe, but one system went
down her back, lying in a thick pad there, while another, created for
a lighter destiny, rippled around her forehead. The face--the face does
not signify. It was the face of the photograph, but older, and the teeth
were not so numerous as the photographer had suggested, and certainly
not so white. Yes, Jacky was past her prime, whatever that prime
may have been. She was descending quicker than most women into the
colourless years, and the look in her eyes confessed it.

"What ho!" said Leonard, greeting the apparition with much spirit, and
helping it off with its boa.

Jacky, in husky tones, replied, "What ho!"

"Been out?" he asked. The question sounds superfluous, but it cannot
have been really, for the lady answered, "No," adding, "Oh,