“Then why don’t you go to work!  It would save you from living in hideous places.”

“After all, does it matter much?  If I had anything else to gain.  Suppose I had any hope of marriage, for instance——­”

He said it playfully.  Eve turned her eyes away, but gave no other sign of self-consciousness.

“I have no such hope.  I have seen too much of marriage in poverty.”

“So have I,” said his companion, with quiet emphasis.

“And when a man’s absolutely sure that he will never have an income of more than a hundred and fifty pounds——­”

“It’s a crime if he asks a woman to share it,” Eve added coldly.

“I agree with you.  It’s well to understand each other on that point.  —­Talking of architecture, I bought a grand book this afternoon.”

He described the purchase, and mentioned what it cost.

“But at that rate,” said Eve, “your days of slavery will come again very soon.”

“Oh! it’s so rarely that I spend a large sum.  On most days I satisfy myself with the feeling of freedom, and live as poorly as ever I did.  Still, don’t suppose that I am bent on making my money last a very long time.  I can imagine myself spending it all in a week or two, and feeling I had its worth.  The only question is, how can I get most enjoyment?  The very best of a lifetime may come within a single day.  Indeed, I believe it very often does.”

“I doubt that—­at least, I know that it couldn’t be so with me.”

“Well, what do you aim at?” Hilliard asked disinterestedly.

“Safety,” was the prompt reply.

“Safety?  From what?”

“From years of struggle to keep myself alive, and a miserable old age.”

“Then you might have said—­a safety-match.”

The jest, and its unexpectedness, struck sudden laughter from Eve.  Hilliard joined in her mirth.

After that she suggested, “Hadn’t we better go?”

“Yes.  Let us walk quietly on.  The streets are pleasant after sunset.”

On rising, after he had paid the bill, Hilliard chanced to see himself in a mirror.  He had flushed cheeks, and his hair was somewhat disorderly.  In contrast with Eve’s colourless composure, his appearance was decidedly bacchanalian; but the thought merely amused him.

They crossed Holborn, and took their way up Southampton Row, neither speaking until they were within sight of Russell Square.

“I like this part of London,” said Hilliard at length, pointing before him.  “I often walk about the squares late at night.  It’s quiet, and the trees make the air taste fresh.”

“I did the same, sometimes, when I lived in Gower Place.”

“Doesn’t it strike you that we are rather like each other in some things?”

“Oh, yes!” Eve replied frankly.  “I have noticed that.”

“You have?  Even in the lives we have led there’s a sort of resemblance, isn’t there?”