I hope _you_ see the connection with the pink dressing-gown,” she remarked to Pinnie, “and I hope you see the importance of the question, Shall anything go? I should like you to look round a bit, and tell me what you would answer if I were to say to you, _Can_ anything go?” XV “I’m sure there’s nothing _I_ should like to part with,” Pinnie returned; and while she surveyed the scene Lady Aurora, with delicacy, to lighten Amanda’s responsibility, got up and turned to the window, which was open to the summer-evening and admitted still the last rays of the long day. Hyacinth, after a moment, placed himself beside her, looking out with her at the dusky multitude of chimney-pots and the small black houses, roofed with grimy tiles. The thick, warm air of a London July floated beneath them, suffused with the everlasting uproar of the town, which appeared to have sunk into quietness but again became a mighty voice as soon as one listened for it; here and there, in poor windows, glimmered a turbid light, and high above, in a clearer, smokeless zone, a sky still fair and luminous, a faint silver star looked down. The sky was the same that, far away in the country, bent over golden fields and purple hills and gardens where nightingales sang; but from this point of view everything that covered the earth was ugly and sordid, and seemed to express, or to represent, the weariness of toil. In an instant, to Hyacinth’s surprise, Lady Aurora said to him, “You never came, after all, to get the books.” “Those you kindly offered to lend me? I didn’t know it was an understanding.” Lady Aurora gave an uneasy laugh. “I have picked them out; they are quite ready.” “It’s very kind of you,” the young man rejoined. “I will come and get them some day, with pleasure.” He was not very sure that he would; but it was the least he could say. “She’ll tell you where I live, you know,” Lady Aurora went on, with a movement of her head in the direction of the bed, as if she were too shy to mention it herself. “Oh, I have no doubt she knows the way—she could tell me every street and every turn!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “She has made me describe to her, very often, how I come and go. I think that few people know more about London than she. She never forgets anything.” “She’s a wonderful little witch—she terrifies me!” said Hyacinth. Lady Aurora turned her modest eyes upon him. “Oh, she’s so good, she’s so patient!” “Yes, and so wise, and so self-possessed.” “Oh, she’s immensely clever,” said her ladyship. “Which do you think the cleverest?” “The cleverest?” “I mean of the girl and her brother.” “Oh, I think he, some day, will be prime minister of England.” “Do you really? I’m so glad!” cried Lady Aurora, with a flush of colour in her face. “I’m so glad you think that will be possible. You know it ought to be, if things were right.”