Ted's
hand seemed to make him living, to bring him nearer to her. Ted still
stood between her and the void where there is no more revelation, no
hope, no love--and Hardy would be in London in another week.

Katherine had not guessed all the truth, any more than Audrey had
herself; but she had guessed enough to make her extremely anxious.
Audrey was not the wife she could have wished for Ted: she disapproved
of his marriage with her as a certain hindrance to his career; but,
above all, she dreaded for him the agony of disappointment which must
follow if Audrey gave him up. She had no very clear idea of what it
would mean to him; but judging his nature by what she had seen of it,
she feared some shock either to his moral system or to his artistic
powers. She longed to speak to him about it; but Ted and she were not
accustomed to handling their emotions, and of late they had avoided all
personal questions not susceptible of humorous treatment. After this
persistent choosing of the shallows, she shrank from a sudden plunge
into the depths. She felt strongly, and with her strong feeling was a
bar to utterance.

At last an incident occurred which laid the subject open to frivolous
discussion.

Katherine was painting one afternoon, and Ted was leaning out of the
window, which looked south-west to Chelsea, his thoughts travelling in a
bee-line towards the little brown house. Suddenly he drew his head in
with an exclamation.

"Uncle James, by Jove! He'll be upon us in another minute. I'm off!" And
he made a rush for his bedroom.

Katherine had only time to wipe the paint from her brush, to throw a
tablecloth over the Apollo and a mackintosh over the divine shoulders of
the Venus--Mr. Pigott was a purist in art, and Katherine respected his
prejudices--when her uncle arrived, panting and inarticulate.

"Well, uncle, this is a surprise! How are you?"

"No better for climbing up that precipice of yours. What on earth
possessed you to come to this out-of-the-way hole?"

"It's a good room for painting, you see----"

"_What's_ that? Couldn't you find a good room in West Kensington,
instead of planting yourself up here away from us all?"

This was a standing grievance, as Katherine knew.

"Well, you see, it's nicer here by the river, and it's cheaper too;
and--how's aunt Kate?"

"Your aunt Kate has got a stye in her eye."

"Dear me, I'm very sorry to hear it. And you, uncle?"

"Poorly, very poorly. I ought not to have