t seemed to say: 'We
understand each other as far as it is right and fitting that we should;
we even sympathise with the difficulties we have each of us experienced
in marrying the other's sister or brother, as the case may be. We know
the worst. And we like to see each other, too, because there are bars
between us, which make it almost piquant.'

Giving him her soft little hand, she began at once to talk of things
farthest from her heart. She saw that she was deceiving Hilary, and this
feather in the cap of her subtlety gave her pleasure. But her nerves
fluttered at once when he said: "I want to speak to you, Cis. You know
that Stephen and I had a talk yesterday, I suppose?"

Cecilia nodded.

"I have spoken to B.!"

"Oh!" Cecilia murmured. She longed to ask what Bianca had said, but did
not dare, for Hilary had his armour on, the retired, ironical look
he always wore when any subject was broached for which he was too
sensitive.

She waited.

"The whole thing is distasteful to me," he said; "but I must do
something for this child. I can't leave her completely in the lurch."

Cecilia had an inspiration.

"Hilary," she said softly, "Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace is in the
drawing-room. She was just speaking of the girl to Stephen. Won't you
come in, and arrange with her quietly?"

Hilary looked at his sister-in-law for a moment without speaking, then
said:

"I draw the line there. No, thank you. I'll see this through myself."

Cecilia fluttered out:

"Oh, but, Hilary, what do you mean?"

"I am going to put an end to it."

It needed all Cecilia's subtlety to hide her consternation. End to what?
Did he mean that he and B. were going to separate?

"I won't have all this vulgar gossip about the poor girl. I shall go and
find another room for her."

Cecilia sighed with relief.

"Would you-would you like me to come too, Hilary?"

"It's very good of you," said Hilary dryly. "My actions appear to rouse
suspicions."

Cecilia blushed.

"Oh, that's absurd! Still, no one could think anything if I come with
you. Hilary, have you thought that if she continues coming to Father---"

"I shall tell her that she mustn't!"

Cecilia's heart gave two thumps, the first with pleasure, the second
with sympathy.

"It will be horrid for you," she said. "You hate doing anything of that
sort."

Hilary nodded.

"But I'm afraid it's the only way," went on Cecilia, rather hastily.
"And, of course, it will be no good saying