ucas & Enwright factotum vanished
utterly, and was supplanted by a tragic human being. But he had no idea
how to handle the unexampled situation with dignity; he realized
painfully his own lack of experience, and his over-mastering impulse was
to get away while it was still possible to get away. Moreover, he
desired intensely to see and hear Marguerite.

"Perhaps I had better find out where she is," he absurdly suggested, and
departed from the room feeling like a criminal reprieved.

The old man did not stir.

II

"Can I come in?" said George, hatless, pushing open the door of the
studio, which was ajar.

There were people in the bright and rather chilly studio, and none of
them moved until the figure arriving out of the darkness was identified.
Mr. Prince, who in the far corner was apparently cleaning or adjusting
his press, then came forward with a quiet, shy, urbane welcome.
Marguerite herself stood nearly under the central lamp, talking to Agg,
who was seated. The somewhat celebrated Agg immediately rose and said in
her somewhat deep voice to Marguerite:

"I must go."

Agg was the eldest daughter of the Agg family, a broad-minded and
turbulent tribe who acknowledged the nominal headship of a hard-working
and successful barrister. She was a painter, and lived and slept in
semi-independence in a studio of her own in Manresa Road, but maintained
close and constant relations with the rest of the tribe. In shape and
proportions fairly tall and fairly thin, she counted in shops among the
stock-sizes; but otherwise she was entitled to call herself unusual. She
kept her hair about as short as the hair of a boy who has postponed
going to the barber's for a month after the proper time, and she
incompletely covered the hair with the smallest possible hat. Her coat
was long and straight and her skirt short. Her boots were high, reaching
well up the calf, but they had high heels and were laced in some
hundreds of holes. She carried a cane in a neatly gloved hand. She was
twenty-seven. In style Marguerite and Agg made a great contrast with one
another. Each was fully aware of the contrast, and liked it.

"Good evening, Mr. Cannon," said Agg firmly, not shaking hands.

George had met her once in the way of small-talk at her father's house.
Having yet to learn the important truth that it takes all sorts to make
a world, he did not like her and wondered why she existed. He could
understand Agg being fond of Marguerite