Hilliard nodded with satisfaction. An incident of the street occupied them for a few minutes, and their serious conversation was only resumed when they had crossed to the south side of the river, where they turned eastwards and went along the quays. "Till I can find something to do," Eve said at length, "I shall live at Dudley. Father will be very glad to have me there. He wished me to stay longer." "I am wondering whether it is really necessary for you to go back to your drudgery." "Oh, of course it is," she answered quickly. "I mustn't be idle. That's the very worst thing for me. And how am I to live?" "I have still plenty of money," said Hilliard, regarding her. "No more than you will need." "But think--how little more it costs for two than for one----" He spoke in spite of himself, having purposed no such suggestion. Eve quickened her step. "No, no, no! You have a struggle before you; you don't know what----" "And if it would make it easier for me?--there's no real doubt about my getting on well enough----" "Everything is doubtful." She spoke in a voice of agitation. "We can't see a day before us. We have arranged everything very well----" Hilliard was looking across the river. He walked more and more slowly, and turned at length to stand by the parapet. His companion remained apart from him, waiting. But he did not turn towards her again, and she moved to his side. "I know how ungrateful I must seem." She spoke without looking at him. "I have no right to refuse anything after all you----" "Don't say that," he interrupted impatiently. "That's the one thing I shall never like to think of." "I shall think of it always, and be glad to remember it----" "Come nearer--give me your hand----" Holding it, he drew her against his side, and they stood in silence looking upon the Seine, now dark beneath the clouding night. "I can't feel sure of you," fell at length from Hilliard. "I promise----" "Yes; here, now, in Paris. But when you are back in that hell----" "What difference can it make in me? It can't change what I feel now. You have altered all my life, my thoughts about everything. When I look back, I don't know myself. You were right; I must have been suffering from an illness that affected my mind. It seems impossible that I could ever have done such things. I ought to tell you. Do you wish me to tell you everything?" Hilliard spoke no answer, but he pressed her hand more tightly in his own. "You knew it from Patty, didn't you?" "She told me as much as she knew that night when I waited for you in High Street. She said you were in danger, and I compelled her to tell all she could." "I _was_ in danger, though I can't understand now how it went so far as that. It was he who came to me with the money, from the gentleman at Hampstead. That was how I first met him. The next day he waited for me when I came away from business." "It was the first time that anything of that kind had happened?"