now some seven years ago, and that for her sake he remained still
unmarried. She never, to do her justice, had affirmed anything of the
sort, but it is a fact that sometimes when Georgie's name came up in
conversation, her eyes wore that "far-away" look that only the
masterpieces of art could otherwise call up, and she would sigh and
murmur "Dear Georgie"! and change the subject, with the tact that
characterized her. In fact their mutual relations were among the most
Beautiful Things of Riseholme, and hardly less beautiful was Peppino's
attitude towards it all. That large hearted man trusted them both, and
his trust was perfectly justified. Georgie was in and out of the house
all day, chiefly in; and not only did scandal never rear its hissing
head, but it positively had not a head to hiss with, or a foot to stand
on. On his side again Georgie had never said that he was in love with
her (nor would it have been true if he had), but by his complete
silence on the subject coupled with his constancy he seemed to admit
the truth of this bloodless idyll. They talked and walked and read the
masterpieces of literature and played duets on the piano together.
Sometimes (for he was the more brilliant performer, though as he said
"terribly lazy about practising," for which she scolded him) he would
gently slap the back of her hand, if she played a wrong note, and say
"Naughty!" And she would reply in baby language "Me vewy sowwy! Oo
naughty too to hurt Lucia!" That was the utmost extent of their carnal
familiarities, and with bright eyes fixed on the music they would break
into peals of girlish laughter, until the beauty of the music sobered
them again.

Georgie (he was Georgie or Mr Georgie, never Pillson to the whole of
Riseholme) was not an obtrusively masculine sort of person. Such
masculinity as he was possessed of was boyish rather than adult, and
the most important ingredients in his nature were womanish. He had, in