He moved abruptly, and crossed the room towards the window.  “Eve,” he said, without looking round, “I want your help.”

He heard the faint rustling of her dress as she turned towards him, and he knew that he had struck the right chord.  All true women respond to an appeal for aid as steel answers to the magnet.  He could feel her expectancy in the silence.

“You know—­we all know—­that the present moment is very vital.  That it’s impossible to deny the crisis in the air.  Nobody feels it more than I do—­nobody is more exorbitantly keen to have a share—­a part, when the real fight comes—­” He stopped; then he turned slowly and their eyes met.  “If a man is to succeed in such a desire,” he went on, deliberately, “he must exclude all others—­he must have one purpose, one interest, one thought.  He must forget that—­”

Eve lifted her head quickly. “—­that he has a wife,” she finished, gently.  “I think I understand.”

There was no annoyance in her face or voice, no suggestion of selfishness or of hurt vanity.  She had read his meaning with disconcerting clearness, and responded with disconcerting generosity.  A sudden and very human dissatisfaction with his readjustment scheme fell upon Loder.  Opposition is the whip to action; a too-ready acquiescence the slackened rein.

“Did I say that?” he asked, quickly.  The tone was almost Chilcote’s.

She glanced up; then a sudden, incomprehensible smile lighted up her face.

“You didn’t say, but you thought,” she answered, gravely.  “Thoughts are the same as words to a woman.  That’s why we are so unreasonable.”  Again she smiled.  Some idea, baffling and incomprehensible to Loder, was stirring in her mind.

Conscious of the impression, he moved still nearer.  “You jump to conclusions,” he said, abruptly.  “What I meant to imply—­”

“—­was precisely what I’ve understood.”  Again she finished his sentence.  Then she laughed softly.  “How very wise, but how very, very foolish men are!  You come to the conclusion that because a woman is—­is interested in you she is going to hamper you in some direction, and after infinite pains you summon all your tact and you set about saving the situation.”

There was interest, even a touch of amusement, in her tone, her eyes were still fixed upon his in an indefinable glance.  “You think you are being very diplomatic,” she went on, quietly, “but in reality you are being very transparent.  The woman reads the whole of your meaning in your very first sentence—­if she hasn’t known it before you began to speak.”

Again Loder made an interruption, but again she checked him.  “No,” she said, still smiling.  “You should never attempt such a task.  Shall I tell you why?”

He stood silent, puzzled and interested.

“Because,” she said, quickly, “when a woman really is —­interested, the man’s career ranks infinitely higher in her eyes than any personal desire for power.”