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I thought from Ruan's mention of her you had neither of you heard." "Heard what?" "Why," said Carminow in rather a shocked voice, "about her illness." "No!..." exclaimed Ishmael and Killigrew in a breath; and Killigrew went on: "What illness? I can't imagine the Hilaria we used to know ill." "She's not the Hilaria we used to know, I'm afraid. You would hardly recognize her.
When they went out into the street again he agreed with Carminow that the night was yet too young to abandon it in mid-air.
Success in this put Killigrew into the wildest spirits, and he forthwith took unto himself a young man whom he ran into as he and Ishmael were going into the Blue Posts for a before-dinner drink. The young man was none other than Carminow, grown very tall and melancholy-looking, with an extravagantly high collar, much swathed with a voluminous black silk cravat and a fancy waistcoat.
Your father's in the city, too, isn't he, Killigrew?" "Yes, but that's no reason why I should be, and I'm jolly well not going to. I'm going to be an artist like Turner...." And Killigrew's voice unconsciously took on a singing inflection of rapture. "There's no doubt about old Carminow, anyway," observed Polkinghorne, to be greeted with laughter.
They had now reached the house, one of the many little lodging-houses that stood where the Hotel Cecil is to-day, and Carminow let himself in with a large key and, turning up the gas, revealed the usual lodging-house hall that is and was and always shall be eternally the same as long as lodgings and landladies exist.
Ishmael said nothing; he was struck by a greater horror that it should have been those walks, which had so seemed to set Hilaria apart from her sex, on which he had so often accompanied her, of which even now he could recall the delight though he had not thought of them since.... Carminow went on: "But of course I don't agree with him; he only says that because he always disapproved of the way poor old Eliot brought her up.
It might be interesting to go and see the performance, mightn't it, Joe?" "Oh, damn it all! I can only think for the moment of poor little Hilaria," exclaimed Killigrew. "I used to be very fond of her.... I wonder " "I'll find out if she'd like to see you and Ruan when next I go if you like, but it's painful, because she can only get her words out in jerks," said Carminow.
Killigrew and Moss minor and the Polkinghornes and Carminow not Doughty; I didn't like him last time I don't know why ..." She broke off and bent forward, her tones took on a thrill; "I've got it," she announced. "The new number of 'The Woman in White'? Oh, Hilaria!..." "It wasn't easy, I can tell you, and we shall have to hurry with it, but it's in my shoe-bag now." "Must you go home and change?
I can see Polkinghorne and Carminow and Polkinghorne minor and Moss minor and yes, it's Doughty. I hope you don't mind fearfully, Hilaria?" She threw a queer little look at him. "It's not for me," she said slowly; "it's only that I don't think he likes you, Ishmael. He tried to tell me something funny about you the other day.
"Oh, I must stay, Polkinghorne," she pleaded, feeling for the first time a terrible sensation of not being wanted, of an unimportance essential to her sex and beyond her power to alter whatever her tastes or her justifiable reliance on her own nerves. But Polkinghorne, backed by Killigrew and Ishmael himself, was adamant, though Carminow saw no reason why she should not stay if it interested her.
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