There was no annoyance in her face or voice, no suggestion of selfishness or of hurt vanity. She had read his meaning with disconcerting clearness, and responded with disconcerting generosity. A sudden and very human dissatisfaction with his readjustment scheme fell upon Loder. Opposition is the whip to action; a too-ready acquiescence the slackened rein. “Did I say that?” he asked, quickly. The tone was almost Chilcote's. She glanced up; then a sudden, incomprehensible smile lighted up her face. “You didn't say, but you thought,” she answered, gravely. “Thoughts are the same as words to a woman. That's why we are so unreasonable.” Again she smiled. Some idea, baffling and incomprehensible to Loder, was stirring in her mind. Conscious of the impression, he moved still nearer. “You jump to conclusions,” he said, abruptly. “What I meant to imply--” “--was precisely what I've understood.” Again she finished his sentence. Then she laughed softly. “How very wise, but how very, very foolish men are! You come to the conclusion that because a woman is--is interested in you she is going to hamper you in some direction, and after infinite pains you summon all your tact and you set about saving the situation.” There was interest, even a touch of amusement, in her tone, her eyes were still fixed upon his in an indefinable glance. “You think you are being very diplomatic,” she went on, quietly, “but in reality you are being very transparent. The woman reads the whole of your meaning in your very first sentence--if she hasn't known it before you began to speak.” Again Loder made an interruption, but again she checked him. “No,” she said, still smiling. “You should never attempt such a task. Shall I tell you why?” He stood silent, puzzled and interested. “Because,” she said, quickly, “when a woman really is--interested, the man's career ranks infinitely higher in her eyes than any personal desire for power.” For a moment their eyes met, then abruptly Loder looked away. She had gauged his intentions incorrectly, yet with disconcerting insight. Again the suggestion of an unusual personality below the serenity of her manner recurred to his imagination. With an impulse altogether foreign to him he lifted his head and again met her glance. Then at last he spoke, but only two words. “Forgive me!” he said, with simple, direct sincerity. XXII After his interview with Eve, Loder retired to the study and spent the remaining hours of the day and the whole span of the evening in work. At one o'clock, still feeling fresh in mind and body, he dismissed Greening and passed into Chilcote's bedroom. The interview with Eve, though widely different from the one he had anticipated, had left him stimulated and alert. In the hours that followed it there had been an added anxiety to put his mind into harness, an added gratification in finding it answer to the rein.