pretence. And the inevitable
constraint was acutely aggravated by Sarah's silent and terrible
reception of the news concerning the Boutwoods.

While George Cannon was paying the driver, Sarah and Hilda hesitated
awkwardly on the pavement, their hands occupied with small belongings.
They had the sensation of being foreigners to the house; they could not
even mount the steps without his protection; scarcely might they in
decency examine the frontage of the house. They could not, however,
avoid seeing that a workman was fixing a new and splendid brass-plate at
the entrance, and that this plate bore the words, "Cannon's Boarding-
house." Hilda thought, startled: "At last he is using his own name!"

He turned to them.

"You have a view of the sea from the bow-window of the drawing-room--on
the first floor," he remarked.

Neither Hilda nor Sarah responded.

"And of course from the other bow-window higher up," he added, almost
pitifully, in his careful casualness.

Hilda felt sorry for him, and she could not understand why she felt
sorry, why it seemed a shame that he should be mysteriously compelled
thus to defend the house before it had been attacked.

"Oh yes!" she murmured foolishly, almost fatuously.

The street and the house were disappointing. After the grandeur of the
promenade, the street appeared shabby and third-rate; it had the
characteristics of a side street; it was the retreat of those who could
not afford anything better, and its base inhabitants walked out on to
the promenade and swaggeringly feigned to be the equals of their
superiors. The house also was shabby and third-rate--with its poor
little glimpse of the sea. Although larger than the Cedars, it was
noticeably smaller and meaner than any house on the promenade, and
whereas the Cedars was detached, No. 59 was not even semi-detached, but
one of a gaunt, tall row of stuccoed and single-fronted dwellings. It
looked like a boarding-house (which the Cedars did not), and not all the
style of George Cannon's suit and cane and manner, as he mounted the
steps, nor the polish of his new brass-plate, could redeem it from the
disgrace of being a very ordinary boarding-house.

George Cannon had made a serious mistake in bringing the carriage round
by the promenade. True, he had exhibited the glory of Brighton, but he
had done so to the detriment of his new enterprise. That No. 59 ought to
be regarded as merely an inexpensive field for the acquiring of
pre