Long economy prompted Eve to decide upon the smallest and cheapest. Whereupon Clementine pointed to another with his stick, and cried: “Sling it in the taxi—you know me! Right! On we go.” But he did not go on before he had purchased a great spray of malmaisons at Solomon’s. “Hats, dresses, and all the rest of it! Bond Street, cabby.” In Bond Street he was at his best. He insisted on following Eve through all manner of extraordinary departments. “Oh, go on with you. I’m old enough to have been married years ago. I’ll look out of the window if you like—but if the bill ain’t big enough I shall turn round. Get busy!” Infected by his enthusiasm Eve got busy, and two great boxes of exquisite frillies floated down to the taxi. “When we’ve filled this cab we’ll get another,” he declared as they clambered in and took their seats. At Redfern’s, in Conduit Street, he showed that he was a man of discrimination. He paraded the _mannequins_, and bought four dresses after a deal of inspection and deliberation. “But four’s such a heap!” said Eve. “Nonsense. I’ll make it six if you say another word. Here, bundle off and put on that fawn thing—know it’ll suit you—want to see how you look! I’ll go and choose hats. I’m a whaler on hats.” So while she changed he went off hatting, to the great joy of the department, and returned with many. Eve was very quick, and as she came from the little changing-room he had a wild desire to cheer. “Lord! You look lovely! Here, try some of these. Ain’t I a chooser? This one! Ain’t it a tartar—the very devil of a little hat.” He was right. “It!” he cried. “It! Clicks with the dress every time! Keep it on. Here, some of you kind young ladies, this lot for the taxi. Bill! Splendid.” He shovelled out a handful of notes and they followed their purchases to the street. “No more,” begged Eve, between laughter and tears. “Not any more today.” “Gloves—shoes—’brollies must be bought.” He was inexorable, and it was six o’clock before the laden taxi rolled them to the door of the Mansions. “You’ve given me my most wonderful day,” she said. “You child!” he answered, and pressed her hand. “There are lots more wonderful days ahead—remember that.” Then he and she, and the driver, each burdened sky-high with packages, mounted the stairs to the flat. As Uncle Clem paid the fare, Eve stooped and picked up a note from the door-mat. She opened it as he closed the door. “God!” she said, in a very little voice. He took the note and read it. V Twenty minutes later Clementine Rendall was hammering on Quiltan’s front door. He had seen what to do. It had come to him very suddenly with all the force of a strong white light. He had made no attempt to comfort Eve—she had not needed that. Wynne Rendall’s note had done its work strangely. At the death of her hopes Eve had laughed a careless, wanton laugh. It was the laugh which gave him the idea.