He went home and told Arnold, who said, “Of course. I can’t think why you didn’t know how it would be. I always told you you were being absurd, with your Blue Water lunatics, and your Food Tax ante-diluvians, and your conscription captains. (No, don’t tell me about it’s not being conscription; now is not the moment. You are down, and it is for me to talk.) You had better try your hand at no more good works, but stick to earning an honest livelihood, as long as they will give you any money for what you do. I daresay from a rumour I heard from Innes to-day, that it won’t be long. I believe the _Daily Post_ are contemplating a reduction in their literary staff, and they will very probably begin with you, unless you learn to restrain your redundant appreciations a little. No paper could bear up under that weight of indiscriminate enthusiasm for long.” “Hulbert told me I was to criticize more severely,” said Eddy. “So I try to now. It’s difficult, when I like a thing, to be severe about it. I wonder if one ought.” But he was really wondering more what Eileen Le Moine thought and would say about his difference with Datcherd. He didn’t discover this for a week. He called at 3, Campden Hill Road, and found both its occupants out. They did not write, as he had half expected, to ask him to come again, or to meet them anywhere. At last he met Eileen alone, coming out of an exhibition of Max Beerbohm cartoons. He had been going in, but he turned back on seeing her. She looked somehow altered, and grave, and she was more beautiful even than he had known, but tired, and with shadowed eyes of fire and softness; to him she seemed, vaguely, less of a child, and more of a woman. Perhaps it was Greece.... Somehow Greece, and all the worlds old and new, and all the seas, seemed between them as she looked at him with hardening eyes. An observer would have said from that look that she didn’t like him; yet she had always liked him a good deal. A capricious person she was; all her friends knew that. He turned back from the entrance door to walk with her, though she said, “Aren’t you going in?” “No,” he said. “I’ve seen them once already. I’d rather see you now, if you don’t mind. I suppose you’re going somewhere? You wouldn’t come and have tea with me first?” She hesitated a moment, as if wondering whether she would, then said, “No; I’m going to tea with Billy’s grandmother; she wants to hear about Greece. Then Billy and I are taking Jane to the Academy, to broaden her mind. She’s never seen it yet, and it’s time her education was completed.”