they felt that even to go on these occasions was against their principles； but for the sake of other people's feelings they had made the sacrifice； and they meant to make it once more； when the time came。 Each Sunday； therefore； everything tried to happen exactly as it happened on every other day； with indifferent success。 This was because； for all Cecilia's resolutions； a joint of beef and Yorkshire pudding would appear on the luncheon…table； notwithstanding the fact that Mr。 Stonewho came when he remembered that it was Sundaydid not devour the higher mammals。 Every week； when it appeared； Cecilia； who for some reason carved on Sundays； regarded it with a frown。 Next week she would really discontinue it； but when next week came； there it was； with its complexion that reminded her so uncomfortably of cabmen。 And she would partake of it with unexpected heartiness。 Something very old and deep； some horrible whole…hearted appetite； derived； no doubt； from Mr。 Justice Carfax； rose at that hour precisely every week to master her。 Having given Thyme the second helping which she invariably took； Cecilia； who detested carving； would look over the fearful joint at a piece of glass procured by her in Venice； and at the daffodils standing upright in it； apparently without support。 Had it not been for this joint of beef； which had made itself smelt all the morning； and would make itself felt all the afternoon； it need never have come into her mind at all that it was Sundayand she would cut herself another slice。
To have told Cecilia that there was still a strain of the Puritan in her would have been to occasion her some uneasiness； and provoked a strenuous denial； yet her way of observing Sunday furnished indubitable evidence of this singular fact。 She did more that day than any other。 For； in the morning she invariably 〃cleared off〃 her correspondence； at lunch she carved the beef； after lunch she cleared off the novel or book on social questions she was reading； went to a concert； clearing off a call on the way back； and on first Sundaysa great borestayed at home to clear off the friends who came to visit her。 In the evening she went to some play or other； produced by Societies for the benefit of persons compelled； like her； to keep a Sunday with which they felt no sympathy。
On this particular 〃first Sunday；〃 having made the circuit of her drawing…room； which extended the whole breadth of her house； and through long； low windows cut into leaded panes； looked out both back and front； she took up Mr。 Balladyce's latest book。 She sat； with her paper…knife pressed against the tiny hollow in her flushed cheek； and pretty little bits of lace and real old jewellery nestling close to her。 And while she turned the pages of Mr。 Balladyce's book Thyme sat opposite in a bright blue frock； and turned the pages of Darwin's work on earthworms。
Regarding her 〃little daughter；〃 who was so much more solid than herself； Cecilia's face wore a very sweet； faintly surprised expression。
'My kitten is a bonny thing；' it seemed to say。 'It is queer that I should have a thing so large。'
Outside in the Square Gardens a shower； the sunlight； and blossoms； were entangled。 It was the time of year when all the world had kittens； young things were everywheresoft； sweet； uncouth。 Cecilia felt this in her heart。 It brought depth into her bright； quick eyes。 What a secret satisfaction it was that she had once so far committed herself as to have borne a child！ What a queer vague feeling she sometimes experienced in the Springalmost amounting to a desire to bear another！ So one may mark the warm eye of a staid mare； following with her gaze the first strayings of her foal。 'I must get used to it；' she seems to say。 'I certainly do miss the little creature； though I used to threaten her with my hoofs； to show I couldn't be bullied by anything of that age。 And there she goes！ Ah； well！'
Remembering suddenly； however； that she was sitting there to clear off Mr。 Balladyce； because it was so necessary to keep up with what he wrote； Cecilia dropped her gaze to the page before her； and instantly； by uncomfortable chance； not the choice pastures of Mr。 Balladyce appeared； where women might browse at leisure； but a vision of the little model。 She had not thought of her for quite an hour； she had tired herself out with thinking…not； indeed； of her； but of all that hinged on her； ever since Stephen had spoken of his talk with Hilary。 Things Hilary had said seemed to Cecilia's delicate。 and rather timid soul so ominous； so unlike himself。 Was there really going to be complete disruption between him and Biancaworse； an ugly scandal？ She； who knew her sister better； perhaps； than anyone； remembered from schoolroom days Bianca's moody violence when anything had occurred to wound herremembered； too； the long fits of brooding that followed。 This affair； which she had tried to persuade herself was exaggerated； loomed up larger than ever。 It was not an isolated squib； it was a lighted match held to a train of gunpowder。 This girl of the people； coming from who knew where； destined for who knew whatthis young； not very beautiful； not even clever child； with nothing but a sort of queer haunting naivete' to give her charm might even be a finger used by Fate！ Cecilia sat very still before that sudden vision of the girl。 There was no staid mare to guard that foal with the dark devotion of her eye。 There was no wise whinnying to answer back those tiny whinnies； no long look round to watch the little creature nodding to sleep on its thin trembling legs in the hot sunlight； no ears to prick up and hoofs to stamp at the approach of other living things。 These thoughts passed through Cecilia's mind and were gone； being too far and pale to stay。 Turning the page which she had not been reading； she heaved a sigh。 Thyme sighed also。
〃These worms are fearfully interesting；〃 she said。 〃Is anybody coming in this afternoon？〃
〃Mrs。 Tallents Smallpeace was going to bring a young man in； a Signor Pozzi…Egregio Pozzi； or some such name。 She says he is the coming pianist。〃 Cecilia's face was spiced with faint amusement。 Some strain of her breeding （the Carfax strain； no doubt） still heard such names and greeted such proclivities with an inclination to derision。
Thyme snatched up her book。 〃Well；〃 she said； 〃I shall be in the attic。 If anyone interesting comes you might send up to me。〃
She stood； luxuriously stretching； and turning slowly round in a streak of sunlight so as to bathe her body in it。 Then； with a long soft yawn； she flung up her chin till the sun streamed on her face。 Her eyelashes rested on cheeks already faintly browned； her lips were parted； little shivers of delight ran down her； her chestnut hair glowed； burnished by the kisses of the sun。
'Ah！' Cecilia thought； 'if that other girl were like this； now； I could understand well enough！'
〃Oh； Lord！〃 said Thyme； 〃there they are！〃 She flew towards the door。
〃My dear；〃 murmured Cecilia； 〃if you must go； do please tell Father。〃
A minute later Mrs。 Tallents Smallpeace came in； followed by a young man with an interesting； pale face and a crop of dusky hair。
Let us consider for a minute the not infrequent case of a youth cursed with an Italian mother and a father of the name of Potts； who had baptised him William。 Had he emanated from the lower classes； he might with impunity have ground an organ under the name of Bill； but springing from the bourgeoisie； and playing Chopin at the age of four； his friends had been confronted with a problem of no mean difficulty。 Heaven； on the threshold of his career； had intervened to solve it。 Hovering； as it were； with one leg raised before the gladiatorial arena of musical London； where all were waiting to turn their thumbs down on the figure of the native Potts； he had received a letter from his mother's birthplace。 It was inscribed： 〃Egregio Signor Pozzi。〃 He was saved。 By the simple inversion of the first two words； the substitution of z's for t's； without so fortunately making any difference in the sound； and the retention of that i； all London knew him now to be the rising pianist。
He was a quiet； well…mannered youth； invaluable just then to Mrs。 Tallents Smallpeace； a woman never happy unless slightly leading a genius in strings。
Cecilia； while engaging them to right and left in her half… sympathetic； faintly mocking wayas if doubting whether they really wanted to see her or she themheard a word of fear。
〃Mr。 Purcey。〃
'Oh Heaven！' she thought。
Mr。 Purcey； whose A。i。 Damyer could be heard outside； advanced in his direct and simple way。
〃I thought I'd give my car a run；〃 he said。 〃How's your sister？〃 And seeing Mrs。 Tallents Smallpeace； he added： 〃How do you do？ We met the other day。〃
〃We did；〃 said Mrs。 Tallents Smallpeace； whose little eyes were sparkling。 〃We talked about the poor； do you remember？〃
Mr。 Purcey； a sensitive man if you could get through his skin； gave her a shrewd look。 'I don't quite cotton to this woman；' he seemed saying； 'there's a laugh about her I don't like。'
〃Ah！ yesyou were tellin' me about them。〃
〃Oh； Mr。 Purcey； but you had heard of them； you remember！〃
Mr。 Purcey made a movement of his face which caused it to seem all jaw。 It was a sort of unconscious declaration of a somewhat formidable character。 So one may see bulldogs； those amiable animals； suddenly disclose their tenacity。
〃It's rather a blue subject；〃 he said bluntly。
Something in Cecilia fluttered at those words。 It was like the saying of a healthy man looking at a box of pills which he did not mean to open。 Why could not she and Stephen keep that lid on； too？ And at this moment； to her deep astonishment； Stephen entered。 She had sent for him； it is true； but had never expected he would come。
His entrance； indeed； requires explanation。
Feeling； as he said； a little 〃off colour；〃 Stephen had not gone to Richmond to play golf。 He had spent the day instead in the company of his pipe and those ancient coins； of which he had the best collection of any man he had ever met。 His thoughts had wandered from them； more than he thought proper； to Hilary and that girl。 He had felt from the beginning that he wa