Strangely enough, Ferdie talked to her more than the others did. Several times, seeing her in the grove with Jack, he had come out to join her. And always, as he approached, Eve would make some excuse, and send the child farther away; this action on her part was involuntary. One morning she had gone to the beach. She had been there half an hour when she saw his figure emerging from the bush-bordered road. "Take Jack away," she said quickly to Dilsey. Dilsey, vexed at being ordered off when handsome "young marse" was approaching, took her charge round a point entirely out of sight, so that Eve and Ferdie were alone. The child gone, Eve could turn all her attention to the man by her side; her watching mood came upon her, the mood in which she spent her evenings. Ferdie had thrown himself down on the sand; handsome as he was, Eve had discovered faults in his face; the features were in danger of becoming too sharp; a little more, and the cheeks would be thin. The mouth had a flattening at the corners, a partly unconscious, partly voluntary action of the muscles, like that which accompanies a "dare" (so Eve described it to herself) on the part of a boy who has come off conqueror in one fight, but who is expecting another and severer one in a moment. This expression (it was visible when he was silent) and a look in his eyes sometimes--these two things seemed to Eve signs of the curse. They were slight signs, however; they would not have been discovered by one woman in a thousand; for Ferdie was not only handsome, there was also something charming about him. But Eve had small admiration for the charming. To-day, as Ferdie lounged beside her, she determined to try an experiment. "I am very anxious to have Jack," she began. "It seems to me that you do have him; it's a complete possession," answered Ferdie, laughing; "I've scarcely been able to touch the youngster since I came." "I mean that I want him to live with me, as though he were my own child; I would bring him up with all possible care." "Have you made a vow, then, never to marry?" Ferdie demanded, looking at her with a merry gleam in his eyes. "Should you object--if Cicely were willing to give him to me?" Eve continued, a slight haughtiness in her manner alone replying to his remark. "I suppose I couldn't, though I'm fond of the little chap." ("Fond!" Eve thought. She looked at him, with parted lips, in suspense.) "But I can't imagine Cicely's consenting," Ferdie went on; "she is devoted to the child." "Not so much as she is to you." "Do you want _me_ to urge her to give him to you?" "Yes," Eve answered. "Why do you want him? For your own pleasure?" Eve hesitated a moment. "Partly." "Are you by any possibility fancying that you can take better care of him than we can?" asked Ferdie, relapsing into his laugh, and sending another pebble skimming over the shining waters. "Leaving Cicely aside, I am the jolliest of fathers."