Desmond's misery was acute; but it was not so hopeless as it would have been if she could have credited Ginny Richards with any permanent power of attraction for Headley. She knew he would come back to her. She knew the power of her own body. She held him by the tie that was never broken so long as it endured. He would never marry her; yet he would come back. But in the interval between these acts there was the music. And the first sound of the music, the changed intonations of her landlady, frightened Desmond; for though she was older than Nicky she was very young. And there were Desmond's people. You may forget that you have people and behave as if they weren't there; but, if they are there, sooner or later they will let you know it. An immense volume of sound and some terrifying orchestral effects were contributed by Desmond's people. So that the music was really very bad to bear. Desmond couldn't bear it. And in her fright she thought of Nicky. She knew that she hadn't a chance so long as he was absorbed in the Moving Fortress. But the model was finished and set up and she was at work on the last drawing. And no more ideas for engines were coming into Nicky's head. The Morss Company and Nicky himself were even beginning to wonder whether there ever would be any more. Then Nicky thought of Desmond. And he showed that he was thinking of her by sitting still and not talking when he was with her. She did not fill that emptiness and spaciousness of Nicky's head, but he couldn't get her out of it. * * * * * When Vera noticed the silence of the two she became uneasy, and judged that the time had come for discreet intervention. "Nicky," she said, "is it true that Desmond's been doing drawings for you?" "Yes," said Nicky, "she's done any amount." "My dear boy, have you any idea of the amount you'll have to pay her?" "I haven't," said Nicky, "I wish I had. I hate asking her, and yet I suppose I'll have to." "Of course you'll have to. _She_ won't hate it. She's got to earn her living as much as you have." "Has she? You don't mean to say she's hard up?" He had never thought of Desmond as earning her own living, still less as being hard up. "I only wish she were," said Vera, "for your sake." "Why on earth for my sake?" "Because _then_, my dear Nicky, you wouldn't have to pay so stiff a price." "I don't care," said Nicky, "how stiff the price is. I shall pay it." And Vera replied that Desmond, in her own queer way, really was a rather distinguished painter. "Pay her," she said. "Pay her for goodness sake and have done with it. And if she wants to give you things don't let her." "As if," said Nicky, "I should dream of letting her." And he went off to Chelsea to pay Desmond then and there.