e."

"So you have some work?"

"It's finished now."

"Then you're only getting the two shillings a day from Mr. Stone?"

She nodded.

"H'm!"

The unexpected fervour of this grunt seemed to animate the little model.

"Three and sixpence for my rent, and breakfast costs threepence
nearly--only bread-and-butter--that's five and two; and washing's always
at least tenpence--that's six; and little things last week was a
shilling--even when I don't take buses--seven; that leaves five shillings
for my dinners. Mr. Stone always gives me tea. It's my clothes worries
me." She tucked her feet farther beneath the seat, and Hilary refrained
from looking down. "My hat is awful, and I do want some---" She looked
Hilary in the face for the first time. "I do wish I was rich."

"I don't wonder."

The little model gritted her teeth, and, twisting at her dirty gloves,
said: "Mr. Dallison, d'you know the first thing I'd buy if I was rich?"

"No."

"I'd buy everything new on me from top to toe, and I wouldn't ever wear
any of these old things again."

Hilary got up: "Come with me now, and buy everything new from top to
toe."

"Oh!"

Hilary had already perceived that he had made an awkward, even dangerous,
proposal; short, however, of giving her money, the idea of which offended
his sense of delicacy, there was no way out of it. He said brusquely:
"Come along!"

The little model rose obediently. Hilary noticed that her boots were
split, and this--as though he had seen someone strike a child--so moved
his indignation that he felt no more qualms, but rather a sort of
pleasant glow, such as will come to the most studious man when he levels
a blow at the conventions.

He looked down at his companion--her eyes were lowered; he could not tell
at all what she was thinking of.

"This is what I was going to speak to you about," he said: "I don't like
that house you're in; I think you ought to be somewhere else. What do you
say?"

"Yes, Mr. Dallison."

"You'd better make a change, I think; you could find another room,
couldn't you?"

The little model answered as before: "Yes, Mr. Dallison."

"I'm afraid that Hughs is-a dangerous sort of fellow."

"He's a funny man."

"Does he annoy you?"

Her expression baffled Hilary; there seemed a sort of slow enjoyment in
it. She looked up knowingly.

"I don't mind him--he won't hurt me. Mr. Dallison, do you think blue or
green?"

Hilary answered shortly: "Bluey-green."