He quickened his steps as the sensation came to him.  Then, reaching the head of the stairs, he turned directly towards Eve’s sitting-room, and, gaining the door, knocked.  The strength of his eagerness, the quick beating of his pulse as he waited for a response, surprised him.  He had told himself many times that his passion, however strong, would never again conquer as it had done two nights ago—­and the fact that he had come thus candidly to Eve’s room was to his mind a proof that temptation could be dared.  Nevertheless there was something disconcerting to a strong man in this merely physical perturbation; and when Eve’s voice came to him, giving permission to enter, he paused for an instant to steady himself; then with sudden decision he opened the door and walked into the room.

The blinds were partly drawn, there was a scent of violets in the air, and a fire glowed warmly in the grate.  He noted these things carefully, telling himself that a man should always be alertly sensible of his surroundings; then all at once the nice balancing of detail suddenly gave way.  He forgot everything but the one circumstance that Eve was standing in the window—­her back to the light, her face towards him.  With his pulses beating faster and an unsteady sensation in his brain, he moved forward holding out his hand.

“Eve—?” he said below his breath.

But Eve remained motionless.  As he came into the room she had glanced at him—­a glance of quick, searching question; then with equal suddenness she had averted her eyes.  As he drew close to her now, she remained immovable.

“Eve—­” he said again.  “I wanted to see you—­I wanted to explain about yesterday and about this morning.”  He paused, suddenly disturbed.  The full remembrance of the scene in the brougham had surged up at sight of her—­had risen a fierce, unquenchable recollection.  “Eve—­” he began again in a new, abrupt tone.

And then it was that Eve showed herself in a fresh light.  From his entrance into the room she had stayed motionless, save for her first glance of acute inquiry; but now her demeanor changed.  For almost the first time in Loder’s knowledge of her the vitality and force that he had vaguely apprehended below her quiet, serene exterior sprang up like a flame within whose radius things are illuminated.  With a quick gesture she turned towards him, her warm color deepening, her eyes suddenly alight.

“I understand,” she said, “I understand.  Don’t try to explain!  Can’t you see that it’s enough to—­to see you as you are—?”

Loder was surprised.  Remembering their last passionate scene, and the damper Chilcote’s subsequent presence must inevitably have cast upon it, he had expected to be doubtfully received; but the reality of the reception left him bewildered.  Eve’s manner was not that of the ill-used wife; its vehemence, its note of desire and depreciation, were more suggestive of his own ardent seizing of the present, as distinguished from past or future.  With an odd sense of confusion he turned to her afresh.