He wanted her to come and copy out his book for two hours a day, from four to six, at a shilling an hour.

Ought she to come, please?
He said his book would take him years." Before answering her Hilary stood for a full minute staring at the fire.
The little model stole a look at him.

He suddenly turned and faced her.
His glance was evidently disconcerting to the girl.

It was, indeed, a critical and dubious look, such as he might have bent on a folio of doubtful origin.
"Don't you think," he said at last, "that it would be much better for you to go back into the country ?" The little model shook her head vehemently.
"Oh no!" "Well, but why not?
This is a most unsatisfactory sort of life." The girl stole another look at him, then said sullenly: "I can't go back there." "What is it?
Aren't your people nice to you ?" She grew red.
"No; and I don't want to go"; then, evidently seeing from Hilary's face that his delicacy forbade his questioning her further, she brightened up, and murmured: "The old gentleman said it would make me independent." "Well," replied Hilary, with a shrug, "you'd better take his offer." She kept turning her face back as she went down the path, as though to show her gratitude.

And presently, looking up from his manuscript, he saw her face still at the railings, peering through a lilac bush.
Suddenly she skipped, like a child let out of school.