“But it didn't affect me then.” She spoke more slowly. “I wouldn't admit it then. And the next day when we talked on the Terrace I still refused to admit it--though I felt it more strongly than before. But I have watched you since that day, and I know there is a change. Mr. Fraide feels the same, and he is never mistaken. I know it's only nine or ten days, but I've hardly seen you in the same mood for nine or ten hours in the last three years.” She stopped, and the silence was expressive. It seemed to plead for confirmation of her instinct. Still Loder could find no response. After waiting for a moment, she leaned forward in her chair and looked up at him. “John,” she said, “is it going to last? That's what I came to ask. I don't want to believe till I'm sure; I don't want to risk a new disappointment.” Loder felt the earnestness of her gaze, though he avoided meeting it. “I couldn't have said this to you a week ago, but to-day I can. I don't pretend to explain why--the feeling is too inexplicable. I only know that I can say it now, and that I couldn't a week ago. Will you understand--and answer?” Still Loder remained mute. His position was horribly incongruous. What could he say? What dared he say? Confused by his silence, Eve rose. “If it's only a phase, don't try to hide it,” she said. “But if it's going to last--if by any possibility it's going to last--” She hesitated and looked up. She was quite close to him. He would have been less than man had he been unconscious of the subtle contact of her glance, the nearness of her presence--and no one had ever hinted that manhood was lacking in him. It was a moment of temptation. His own energy, his own intentions, seemed so near; Chilcote and Chilcote's claims so distant and unreal. After all, his life, his ambitions, his determinations, were his own. He lifted his eyes and looked at her. “You want me to tell you that I will go on?” he said. Her eyes brightened; she took a step forward. “Yes,” she said, “I want it more than anything in the world.” There was a wait. The declaration that would satisfy her came to Loder's lips, but he delayed it. The delay, was fateful. While he stood silent the door opened and the servant who had brought in the tea reappeared. He crossed the room and handed Loder a telegram. “Any answer, sir?” he said. Eve moved back to her chair. There was a flush on her cheeks and her eyes were still alertly bright. Loder tore the telegram open, read it, then threw it Into the fire. “No answer!” he said, laconically. At the brusqueness of his voice, Eve looked up. “Disagreeable news?” she said, as the servant departed. He didn't look at her. He was watching the telegram withering in the centre of the fire. “No,” he said at last, in a strained voice. “No. Only news that I--that I had forgotten to expect.” XI