She turned up a side street and went into a public-house to which Mrs. Harding had once taken her late at night and which had then been crowded with men and women. The saloon bar, with its pretentious decorations, was empty and looked seedy and shabby by the light of day. She ordered a liqueur of brandy and sipped it slowly, listening the while to a heated controversy between two cabmen in the next compartment. As she went out of the heavy swing doors, a man passed quickly by; he looked at her surprised—she recognized Mortimer. She watched him as he walked on and round the corner into Regent Street, and then followed in the same direction, but did not catch sight of him again. She was utterly at a loss what to do to while away the afternoon. Later on she intended to dine and then go to a music-hall. Meanwhile, the hours would hang heavy on her hands. The spirit she had drunk, too strong and none too pure, filled her with spurious energy that a sharp walk soon dispelled, leaving behind a feeling half of nausea, half of faintness. She laughed as she remembered Mrs. Harding’s invariable remedy on similar occasions, and went into another public-house, but this time did not drink the brandy neat. A man was leaning over the bar talking familiarly with the barmaid, and he turned to look inquisitively at Marian. When she raised her glass to drink he did the same, looking at her insolently, and followed her when she left the place. “Well, my dear, where are you off to?” he asked, slipping his hand through her arm. “If you’ve nothing better to do—and what could be better?—take me to tea at your place. Here’s a hansom; let’s jump in.” For a moment she hesitated. Then, with a laugh and look, stepped with him into the cab. CHAPTER XXV THOUGH the days were lengthening out toward the spring, there were many hours during each when the light was not clean and clear enough for painting; these Maddison found unspeakably dreary. He was greatly tempted often either to call Marian back to him or to run up to town to see her, but he did not give way to the impulse, for he had determined to test this plan of hers to the bitter end. He did not much believe that she was right and that separation would enable him to do better with his work. Rather to the opposite opinion he inclined, that constant companionship would make them become one, all in all to each other, so that no longer would her presence disturb him, but on the contrary would inspire and spur him on to greater things than he had ever achieved before.