"So I have heard." He went to Eve, took her arm, and led her away almost by force to the shadow at some distance from the fire. "What in the world has made you change so?" he said. "Do you know--it's abject." "Yes, it's abject," Eve answered. She could see him looking at her in the dusky darkness; she had never been looked at in such a way before. "It's brave, too," she added, trying to keep back the tears. "I don't understand riddles." "I think you understand mine." She had said it. She had been seized with a sudden wild desire to make an end of it, to put it into words. The overweight of daring which nature had given her drew her on. "Well, if I do, then," answered Paul, "why don't you want to please me?" She turned her head away, suffocated by his calm acceptance of her avowal. "It would be of no use. And I want to make one woman happy; so few women are happy!" "Do you call it happy to have Ferdie knocking her about?" "She does." "And knocking about Jack, too?" "I shall be there, I can take care of Jack." "I see I can do nothing with you. You have lost your senses!" He went back to Cicely. "Ferdie has his faults, Cicely, as we both know; but you have yours too, you make yourself out too important. How many other women do you think he has cared for?" "Before he saw me, five hundred, if you like; five thousand." "And since he saw you--since he married you?" Cicely laughed happily. "I will bring you something," said Paul. He went off to his tent. Eve came rapidly to Cicely. "Don't believe a word he tells you!" "If it is anything against Ferdie, of course I shall not," answered Cicely, composedly. The judge had followed Paul to his tent. He waited anxiously outside, and then followed him back. "I don't believe, after all, Cicely, that you are going to do what I don't want you to do," said Paul, in a cheerful tone, as he came up. He seemed to have abandoned whatever purpose he had had, for he brought nothing with him--his hands were empty. Cicely did not reply, she played with a curl of Jack's hair. "Ferdie himself doesn't want you to go; you showed me his letter saying so." "Yes." "Isn't that enough, then? Come, don't be so cold with me," Paul went on, his voice taking caressing tones. Cicely felt their influence. "I want to go, Paul, because that very letter of Ferdie's makes me afraid," she said, wistfully; "I feel that there is something behind, something I do not know." "If there is, it is something which he does not wish you to know." "That could never be; it is only because I am not with him; when I am with him, he tells me everything, he likes to tell me." "Will you take my word for it if I assure you that it is much better for both of you, not only for yourself, but for Ferdie, that you stay here awhile longer?" "No," replied Cicely, hardening. Her "no" was quiet, but it expressed an obstinacy that was immovable. Paul looked at her. "Will you wait a week?" "No." "Will you wait three days?"