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Updated: May 26, 2025
Dallison, he added in a loud whisper: "Execution of the Shoreditch murderer!" Cecilia felt suddenly as though the world were listening to her conversation with these two rather seedy persons. "I don't really know what I can do for you, Mrs. Hughs. I'll speak to Mr. Dallison, and to Mr. Hilary too." "Yes, ma'am; thank you, ma'am."
Preceded by Miranda, they walked along the flower walk towards the Park, talking of indifferent things, though in his heart each knew well enough what was in the other's. Stephen broke through the hedge. "Cis has been telling me," he said, "that this man Hughs is making trouble of some sort." Hilary nodded.
Hughs' room; the latter's outburst to Cecilia; Hughs' threat; and, finally, the girl's pretty clothes he had summed it up as just a common "plant," to which his brother's possibly innocent, but in any case imprudent, conduct had laid him open. It was a man's affair. He resolutely tried to look on the whole thing as unworthy of attention, to feel that nothing would occur.
This, then, was the other reason, on the morning of the first of May, which made him not averse to go and visit Mrs. Hughs in Hound Street, Kensington. Hilary and his little bulldog entered Hound Street from its eastern end. It was a grey street of three-storied houses, all in one style of architecture.
Let me have a look." Mrs. Hughs held out her arms; the wrists were swollen and discoloured. "The brute!" cried Thyme. The young doctor muttered: "Done last night. Got any arnica?" "No, Sir." "Of course not." He laid a sixpence on the sill. "Get some and rub it in. Mind you don't break the skin." Thyme suddenly burst out: "Why don't you leave him, Mrs. Hughs?
He stood with his ancient nightgown flapping round his still more ancient legs, slightly shivering; then, pulling the door open, he looked forth. On the stairs just above him Mrs. Hughs, clasping her baby with one arm, was holding the other out at full length between herself and Hughs. He heard the latter say: "You've drove me to it; I'll do a swing for you!" Mrs.
"To have cast a spell on Hughs, as the woman puts it." "On Hughs!" repeated Hilary. Cecilia found her eyes resting on the bust of Socrates, and hastily proceeded: "She says he follows her about, and comes down here to lie in wait for her. It's a most strange business altogether. You went to see them, didn't you?" Hilary nodded.
"It's not exactly for you to laugh, Hilary," he said. "It's all of a piece with your cursed sentimentality about those Hughs, and that girl. I knew it would end in a mess." Hilary answered this unjust and unexpected outburst by a look, and Stephen, with the strange feeling of inferiority which would come to him in Hilary's presence against his better judgment, lowered his own glance.
"If you don't help your neighbour, your neighbour don't help you," she said sententiously. Creed fixed his iron-rimmed gaze on her in silence. He was considering perhaps how he stood with regard to Hughs in the light of that remark. "I attended of his baby's funeral," he said. "Oh dear, he's here a'ready!" The family of Hughs, indeed, stood in the doorway.
The little model answered quickly: "But I've seen Hughs, Mr. Dallison. He's found out where I live. Oh, he does look dreadful; he frightens me. I can't ever stay there now." She had come a little out of her hiding-place, and stood fidgeting her hands and looking down. 'She's not speaking the truth, thought Hilary. The little model gave him a furtive glance. "I did see him," she said.
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