“You want turning out to grass for a month, then all the kick will come back. You have done enough experimenting on your own. I tried it once, and I didn’t like it!” “When can I see Mrs. Falconer?” Mrs. Falconer’s name seemed to instil sudden seriousness into Dr. Alice Keck. “Oh, in a day or two!” “I haven’t seen her yet, and I want to thank her.” “Take my advice, and don’t.” “Why not?” “Oh, it is not in her line—the emotions! You’d feel foolish, as though you had taken a box of matches to set light to the North Pole.” “That sounds rather discouraging.” “Rot! Wait and see. They call her Pallas, you know. If you begin hanging emotions on Kate Falconer you’ll end up by thinking you are shoving tinsel and beads on a fine statue. I’ll tell her you want to see her. I think she wants to see you.” Eve’s vitality was returning, and one of the first evidences of its return showed itself in a curiosity concerning this woman who had befriended her. All the little delicate refinements of life had been given her—flowers, books, early tea served in dainty china, a bottle of scent had even been placed on the table beside her bed. These things had seemed feminine and suggestive. The room had a warmth of atmosphere that did not seem to belong to the house of a woman who would not care to be thanked. But from the very first moment that Eve saw Kate Falconer in the flesh, she understood the aptness of Alice Keck’s similes. Eve was unusually intuitive. She felt an abnormal presence near her, something that piqued her interest. “I am glad that you are so much better.” She came and sat down beside the bed, and Eve could see her profile against the window. A warm, evening light was pouring in, but Pallas’s white face and grey dress were not warmed by it. There was nothing diaphanous or flamboyant about her; neither was she reactive or absorbent. The poise was complete; the whole world on one side, this woman on the other. She made Eve feel self-conscious. “I am much better, thanks to all your kindness.” “It was the obvious thing to do.” “I cannot quite look at it like that.” It struck her as absurd that this woman should speak of doing what was obvious. Eve’s intuition did not hail her as an obvious person, though it was possible that Mrs. Falconer’s cold brilliancy made what seemed complex to most people, obvious to her. There was a moment’s constraint, Eve feeling herself at a disadvantage. “I thought you might like to talk.” “I ought to explain things a little.” “You are under no obligation to explain anything. We women must help one another. It is part of the new compact.” “Against men?” “Against male dominance.” “I should like to tell you some of my experiences!” “I should like to hear them!”