uld be so good. But no--it doesn't matter. I shall have to
see him later."

She sat down again and waited. The silence was so tense that it seemed
to bear the impact of her pulses; it throbbed and quivered with pain.
Outside, the sound of the pebbles, crunched under Pilkington's
footsteps, became a concert of shrieks.

Rickman did not offer to go as Mr. Pilkington advanced; for, Heaven
knew how, in some obscure and subtle way she had managed to convey to
him that his presence was a protection.

Mr. Pilkington entered the room with the air of a man completely
assured as to his reception. He bowed to Miss Harden; an extraordinary
bow. No words could have conveyed the exquisite intimations of Mr.
Pilkington's spine. It was as if he had said to her, "Madam, you
needn't be afraid; in your presence I am all deference and chivalry
and restraint." But no sooner had Dicky achieved this admirable effect
of refinement than he spoilt it all by the glance he levelled at young
Rickman. _That_ expressed nothing but the crude emotion of the
insolent male, baulked of his desire to find himself alone on the
field. It insulted her as brutally as any words by its unblushing
assumption of the attitude of sex.

"I must introduce myself, Miss 'Arden," he said, ignoring Rickman. "I
think I have _not_ had the pleasure--" His large mouth closed
reluctantly on the unfinished phrase.

He seated himself with circumstance, parting the tails of his coat
very carefully. He had chosen a seat opposite the window. As if
conscious of the glory of his appearance, he offered himself liberally
to the light. He let it play over his figure, a figure that youth
subdued to sleekness that would one day be corpulence; it drew out all
the yellow in his moustache and hair; it blazed in his gold-rimmed
eye-glass; thence it alighted, a pale watery splendour, on the bridge
of his nose. It was a bridge where two nationalities met and contended
for mastery. Mr. Pilkington's nose had started with a distinctly
Semitic intention, frustrated by the Anglo-Saxon in him, its downward
course being docked to the proportion of a snub. Nobody knew better
than Mr. Pilkington that it was that snub that saved him. He was proud
of it as a proof of his descent from the dominant race. Assisted by
his reluctantly closing mouth and double eye-glass it inspired
confidence, giving to Mr. Pilkington's face an expression of extreme
openness and candour. He was proud of his eye-glass too.