The new-comer was Eve herself.  She was dressed in outdoor clothes, and walked into the room quickly; then, as Loder had done, she too paused.

The gesture, so natural and spontaneous, had a peculiar attraction; as she glanced up at him, her face alight with inquiry, she seemed extraordinarily much the owner and designer of her surroundings.  She was framed by them as naturally and effectively as her eyes and her face were framed by her black hair.  For one moment he forgot that his presence demanded explanation; the next she had made explanation needless.  She had been looking at him intently; now she came forward slowly.

“John?” she said, half in appeal, half in question.

He took a step towards her.  “Look at me,” he said, quietly and involuntarily.  In the sharp desire to establish himself in her regard he forgot that her eyes had never left his face.

But the incongruity of the words did not strike her.  “Oh!” she exclaimed, “I—­I believe I knew, directly I saw you here.”  The quick ring of life vibrating in her tone surprised him.  But he had other thoughts more urgent than surprise.

In the five days of banishment just lived through, the need for a readjustment of his position with regard to her had come to him forcibly.  The memory of the night when weakness and he had been at perilously close quarters had returned to him persistently and uncomfortably, spoiling the remembrance of his triumph.  It had been well enough to smother the thought of that night in days of work.  But had the ignoring of it blotted out the weakness?  Had it not rather thrown it into bolder relief?  A man strong in his own strength does not turn his back upon temptation; he faces and quells it.  In the solitary days in Clifford’s Inn, in the solitary night-hours spent in tramping the city streets, this had been the conviction that had recurred again and again, this the problem to which, after much consideration, he had found a solution —­satisfactory at least to himself.  When next Chilcote called him—­It was notable that he had used the word “when” and not “if.”  When next Chilcote called him he would make a new departure.  He would no longer avoid Eve; he would successfully prove to himself that one interest and one alone filled his mind—­the pursuance of Chilcote’s political career.  So does man satisfactorily convince himself against himself.  He had this intention fully in mind as he came forward now.

“Well,” he said, slowly, “has it been very hard to have faith —­these last five days?” It was not precisely the tone he had meant to adopt; but one must begin.

Eve turned at his words.  Her eyes were brimming with life, her cheeks still touched to a deep, soft color by the keenness of the wintry air.

“No,” she answered, with a shy, responsive touch of confidence.  “I seemed to keep on believing.  You know converts make the best devotees.”  She laughed with slight embarrassment, and glanced up at him.  Something in the blue of her eyes reminded him unexpectedly of spring skies—­full of youth and promise.