The house oppressed her, so she put on her hat and escaped, and made her way into the park. May was in, green May, with lush grass and opening leaves. The sun shone. There was sparkle in the air. One thought of wood nymphs dancing on forest lawns while fauns piped and jigged, and the great god Pan delighted himself with wine and honey. It was only a London park, but it was the nearest thing to Nature that Eve could find. Her heart expanded suddenly. An irrational, tremulous joyousness came over her. She wanted to sing, to weep, to throw herself down and bury her face in the cool green grass. The country in May! She had a swift and passionate desire for the country, for green glooms and quiet waters and meadows dusted with gold. To get out of this loathsome complication of tragedies, to breathe smokeless air, to think of things other than suicides, prostitutions, treacheries, the buying and selling of souls. She felt like a child before a holiday, and then she thought of Lynette. What a vision of wholesomeness and of joy! It was like cool water bubbling out of the earth, like a swallow gliding, a thrush singing at dawn. She could not bear to think of wasting all the spring in London. She must escape somehow, escape to a healthier outlook, to cooler thinking. When she went back Mrs. Falconer sent for her. Eve wondered afterwards whether it was a coincidence or not that Mrs. Falconer should have said what she did that day. “You have not been looking well. You want a change!” “I almost think I do.” “You don’t like me. It is a pity.” Eve was taken by surprise. “Don’t like you?” “It is quite obvious to me, but it does not make any difference. I knew it, almost from the first. A matter of temperament. I understand some things better than you suspect. You want action, more warmth of movement. This statistical work disgusts you. I can give you your opportunity.” Eve remained mute. It was useless to protest in the presence of such a woman. “Two of our missionaries are going to tour in Sussex and Surrey. I think you might join them. I wonder if you are strong enough.” “Oh, yes!” “You see, they tramp most of the way, and speak in the villages, and small towns. Sometimes they are treated rather roughly.” Eve beheld the green country within the clasp of her arms, and was ready to accept anything. “Yes, I’ll go. I should love to go. I’m strong, and I’m not afraid. I think I want action.” “Yes, you are not made for dealing with harsh facts. They disgust you too much, and weaken you. It is all temperament. You are one of those who must spend themselves, obtain self-expression.” “I wonder how you know that?” “My dear, I was a woman before I became a thinker.” * * * * * CHAPTER XXXVII ADVENTURES