care if he does; I'm not afraid of him. I can look after
myself; I'm used to it."

"I am going away," said Hilary quietly.

After a desperate look, that seemed to ask, 'Am I going, too?' the little
model stood as though frozen.

Wishing to end the painful scene, Hilary went up to Mr. Stone.

"Do you want to dictate to her this afternoon, sir?"

"No," said Mr. Stone.

"Nor to-morrow?"

"Will you come a little walk with me?"

Mr. Stone bowed.

Hilary turned to the little model. "It is goodbye, then," he said.

She did not take his hand. Her eyes, turned sideways, glinted; her teeth
were fastened on her lower lip. She dropped the lilies, suddenly looked
up at him, gulped, and slunk away. In passing she had smeared the lilies
with her foot.

Hilary picked up the fragments of the flowers, and dropped them into the
grate. The fragrance of the bruised blossoms remained clinging to the
air.

"Shall we get ready for our walk?" he said.

Mr. Stone moved feebly to the door, and very soon they were walking
silently towards the Gardens.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THYME'S ADVENTURE

This same afternoon Thyme, wheeling a bicycle and carrying a light
valise, was slipping into a back street out of the Old Square. Putting
her burden down at the pavement's edge, she blew a whistle. A hansom-cab
appeared, and a man in ragged clothes, who seemed to spring out of the
pavement, took hold of her valise. His lean, unshaven face was full of
wolfish misery.

"Get off with you!" the cabman said.

"Let him do it!" murmured Thyme.

The cab-runner hoisted up the trunk, then waited motionless beside the
cab.

Thyme handed him two coppers. He looked at them in silence, and went
away.

'Poor man,' she thought; 'that's one of the things we've got to do away
with!'

The cab now proceeded in the direction of the Park, Thyme following on
her bicycle, and trying to stare about her calmly.

'This,' she thought, 'is the end of the old life. I won't be romantic,
and imagine I'm doing anything special; I must take it all as a matter of
course.' She thought of Mr. Purcey's face--'that person!'--if he could
have seen her at this moment turning her back on comfort. 'The moment I
get there,' she mused, 'I shall let mother know; she can come out
to-morrow, and see for herself. I can't have hysterics about my
disappearance, and all that. They must get used to the idea that I mean
to be in touch with things. I can't be stoppe