Eve kept her head bent.  Painful, inaudible sobs were shaking her from head to foot.

“It’s something in you—­something unconscious—­something high and fine, that holds me back—­that literally bars the way.  Eve, can’t you see that I’m fighting—­fighting hard?”

After he had spoken there was silence—­a long, painful silence—­during which Eve waged the battle that so many of her sex have waged before; the battle in which words are useless and tears of no account.  She looked very slight, very young, very forlorn, as she stood there.  Then, in the oppressive sense of waiting that filled the whole room, she looked up at him.

Her face was stained with tears, her thick, black lashes were still wet with them; but her expression, as her eyes met Loder’s, was a strange example of the courage, the firmness, the power of sacrifice that may be hidden in a fragile vessel.

She said nothing, for in such a moment words do not come easily, but with the simplest, most submissive, most eloquent gesture in the world she set his perplexity to rest.

Taking his hand between hers, she lifted it and for a long, silent space held it against her lips.

XXXIII

For a while there was silence; then Loder, bitterly aware that he had conquered, poignantly conscious of the appeal that Eve’s attitude made, found further endurance impossible.  Gently freeing his hand, he moved away from her to the fireplace, taking up the position that she had first occupied.

“Eve,” he said, slowly, “I haven’t finished yet.  I haven’t said everything.  I’m going to tax your courage further.”

With a touch of pained alarm, Eve lifted her head.  “Further?” she said.

Loder shrank from the expression on her face.  “Yes,” he said, with difficulty.  “There’s still another point to be faced.  The matter doesn’t end with my going back.  To have the situation fully saved, Chilcote must return—­Chilcote must be brought to realize his responsibilities.”

Eve’s lips parted in dumb dismay.

“It must be done,” he went on hurriedly, “and we have got to do it—­you and I.”  He turned and looked at her.

“I?  I could do nothing.  What could I do?” Her voice failed.

“Everything,” he said, “you could do everything.  He is morally weak, but he has one sensitive point—­the fear of a public exposure.  Once make it plain to him that you know his secret, and you can compel him to whatever course of action you select.  It was to ask you to do this—­to beg you to do this—­that I came to you to-night.  I know that it’s demanding more than a woman’s resolution—­more than a woman’s strength.  But you are like no woman in the world!

“Eve!” he cried, with sudden vehemence, “can’t you see that it’s imperative—­the one thing to save us both?”

He stopped abruptly as he had begun, and again a painful silence filled the room.  Then, as before, Eve moved instinctively towards him, but this time her steps were slow and uncertain.  Nearing his side, she put out her hand as if for comfort and support; and, feeling his fingers tighten round it, stood for a moment resting in the contact.