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silence she put her arms about his neck and kissed him。 It was a
strange； cold kiss； but almost fierce； and then without a word she
turned and walked away； and he watched her to the corner of Hanover
Gate； but she did not look back。
It was almost as if it had raised a barrier between them； that kiss。
The next evening she came to meet him with a smile as usual； but in
her eyes was still that odd suggestion of lurking fear； and when；
seated beside her； he put his hand on hers it seemed to him she
shrank away from him。 It was an unconscious movement。 It brought
back to him that haunting memory of hill and stream when some soft…
eyed fawn； strayed from her fellows； would let him approach quite
close to her； and then； when he put out his hand to caress her；
would start away with a swift； quivering movement。
〃Do you always wear gloves？〃 he asked her one evening a little
later。
〃Yes；〃 she answered； speaking low； 〃when I'm out of doors。〃
〃But this is not out of doors；〃 he had pleaded。 〃We have come into
the garden。 Won't you take them off？〃
She had looked at him from under bent brows； as if trying to read
him。 She did not answer him then。 But on the way out； on the last
seat close to the gate； she had sat down； motioning him to sit
beside her。 Quietly she unbuttoned the fawn gloves； drew each one
off and laid them aside。 And then； for the first time； he saw her
hands。
Had he looked at her； seen the faint hope die out； the mute agony in
the quiet eyes watching him； he would have tried to hide the
disgust； the physical repulsion that showed itself so plainly in his
face； in the involuntary movement with which he drew away from her。
They were small and shapely with rounded curves； but raw and seared
as with hot irons； with a growth of red； angry…coloured warts； and
the nails all worn away。
〃I ought to have shown them to you before；〃 she said simply as she
drew the gloves on again。 〃It was silly of me。 I ought to have
known。〃
He tried to comfort her； but his phrases came meaningless and
halting。
It was the work； she explained as they walked on。 It made your
hands like that after a time。 If only she could have got out of it
earlier！ But now！ It was no good worrying about it now。
They parted near to the Hanover Gate； but to…night he did not stand
watching her as he had always done till she waved a last good…bye to
him just before disappearing； so whether she turned or not he never
knew。
He did not go to meet her the next evening。 A dozen times his
footsteps led him unconsciously almost to the gate。 Then he would
hurry away again； pace the mean streets； jostling stupidly against
the passers…by。 The pale； sweet face； the little nymph…like figure；
the little brown shoes kept calling to him。 If only there would
pass away the horror of those hands！ All the artist in him
shuddered at the memory of them。 Always he had imagined them under
the neat； smooth gloves as fitting in with all the rest of her；
dreaming of the time when he would hold them in his own； caressing
them； kissing them。 Would it be possible to forget them； to
reconcile oneself to them？ He must thinkmust get away from these
crowded streets where faces seemed to grin at him。 He remembered
that Parliament had just risen； that work was slack in the office。
He would ask that he might take his holiday nowthe next day。 And
they had agreed。
He packed a few things into a knapsack。 From the voices of the
hills and streams he would find counsel。
He took no count of his wanderings。 One evening at a lonely inn he
met a young doctor。 The innkeeper's wife was expecting to be taken
with child that night； and the doctor was waiting downstairs till
summoned。 While they were talking； the idea came to him。 Why had
he not thought of it？ Overcoming his shyness； he put his questions。
What work would it be that would cause such injuries？ He described
them； seeing them before him in the shadows of the dimly lighted
room； those poor； pitiful little hands。
Oh！ a dozen things might account for itthe doctor's voice sounded
callousthe handling of flax； even of linen under certain
conditions。 Chemicals entered so much nowadays into all sorts of
processes and preparations。 All this new photography； cheap colour
printing； dyeing and cleaning； metal work。 Might all be avoided by
providing rubber gloves。 It ought to be made compulsory。 The
doctor seemed inclined to hold forth。 He interrupted him。
But could it be cured？ Was there any hope？
Cured？ Hope？ Of course it could be cured。 It was only localthe
effect being confined to the hands proved that。 A poisoned
condition of the skin aggravated by general poverty of blood。 Take
her away from it； let her have plenty of fresh air and careful diet；
using some such simple ointment or another as any local man； seeing
them； would prescribe； and in three or four months they would
recover。
He could hardly stay to thank the young doctor。 He wanted to get
away by himself； to shout； to wave his arms； to leap。 Had it been
possible he would have returned that very night。 He cursed himself
for the fancifulness that had prevented his inquiring her address。
He could have sent a telegram。 Rising at dawn； for he had not
attempted to sleep； he walked the ten miles to the nearest railway
station； and waited for the train。 All day long it seemed to creep
with him through the endless country。 But London came at last。
It was still the afternoon； but he did not care to go to his room。
Leaving his knapsack at the station； he made his way to Westminster。
He wanted all things to be unchanged； so that between this evening
and their parting it might seem as if there had merely passed an
ugly dream； and timing himself； he reached the park just at their
usual hour。
He waited till the gates were closed； but she did not come。 All day
long at the back of his mind had been that fear； but he had driven
it away。 She was ill； just a headache； or merely tired。
And the next evening he told himself the same。 He dared not whisper
to himself anything else。 And each succeeding evening again。 He
never remembered how many。 For a time he would sit watching the
path by which she had always come； and when the hour was long past
he would rise and walk towards the gate； look east and west； and
then return。 One evening he stopped one of the park…keepers and
questioned him。 Yes； the man remembered her quite well： the young
lady with the fawn gloves。 She had come once or twicemaybe
oftener； the park…keeper could not be sureand had waited。 No；
there had been nothing to show that she was in any way upset。 She
had just sat there for a time； now and then walking a little way and
then coming back again； until the closing hour； and then she had
gone。 He left his address with the park…keeper。 The man promised
to let him know if he ever saw her there again。
Sometimes； instead of the park； he would haunt the mean streets
about Lisson Grove and far beyond the other side of the Edgware
Road； pacing them till night fell。 But he never found her。
He wondered； beating against the bars of his poverty； if money would
hav