Mrs. Huston contented herself with no more compromising affirmative than a gracious inclination of the head. It is just possible that, fresh from Ceylon, and consequently deplorably ignorant of artistic affairs as she was, the knowledge that William Hicks was not an Academy student had been denied her. This most lamentable fact, however, if it existed, she concealed with all the cleverness of her sex, and Hicks came to the conclusion, later on, that she must have known. He could not conceive it possible that a woman moving in intelligent circles, although in the outer rims thereof, and far from the living centre of Kensington, could be unaware of such an important item in his own personal history; this being no mean part of the artistic history of the nineteenth century.
Enveloped as he was, however, in conceit, he had the good taste to perceive that his bewildering presence was on this particular occasion liable to be considered bliss of an alloyed description, and in a short time he took his leave.
As he was moving round and saying good-bye, Mrs. Huston returned to the artistic question, from which they had never strayed very far. Indeed, art was somewhat apt to become a nauseating subject of conversation wherever William Hicks was allowed to influence matters to any extent.
'You have never sent pictures to the Academy, then?' she asked innocently.
'Oh no!' he answered with mild horror. 'Good-bye, so glad to see you home again.'
And then he vanished.
Mrs. Wylie watched his retreating figure with a pleasant and sociable expression on her intelligent face.
'That,' she was reflecting, 'is a lie!' She happened to know that Hicks had been refused a place on the walls of Burlington House.
If I were a ghost, or if I ever come to be one, I shall not take up the old, time-worn craft of frightening people during the stilly hours. Instead of such uninteresting work, I shall make a collection in a phantom pocket-book of asides and murmured reflections. From such, an interesting study of earthly existence, and more particularly of social life, might well be made.
On those phantom pages might, for instance, be inscribed the reflections of William Hicks as he made his way down the broad staircase of Suffolk Mansions.