He stood silent before her for several seconds.
"Yes, I see. Perhaps. I daresay I can find out something about it. After all, I've given some evidence of consideration for her."
"That makes it worse if you give none now. Good-by."
"It's less than a fortnight since I first met her. She won't miss me much, Lady Evenswood."
"Time's everything, isn't it? Oh, you're not stupid! Think it over, Mr Tristram. Now good-by. And don't conclude I shan't think about you because it's only an hour since we met. We women are curious. When you've nothing better to do it'll pay you to study us."
As Harry walked down from her house in Green Street, his thoughts were divided between the new life and that old one which she had raised again before his eyes by her reference to Cecily. The balance was turned in favor of Blent by the sight of a man who was associated in his mind with it—Sloyd, the house-agent who had let Merrion Lodge to Mina Zabriska. Sloyd was as smart as usual, but he was walking along in a dejected way, and his hat was unfashionably far back on his head. He started when he saw Harry approaching him.
"Why, it's——" he began, and stopped in evident hesitation.
"Mr Tristram," said Harry. "Glad to meet you, Mr Sloyd, though you won't have any more rent to hand over to me."
Sloyd began to murmur some rather flowery condolences.