When
a man touches the core of his capacities, puts his best into
the work that in his eyes stands paramount, there is little
place for, and no need of, woman. She comes before--and after.
She inspires, compensates, or completes; but the achievement,
the creation, is man's alone. And all true women understand
and yield to this unspoken precept.
Eve watched the progress of his labor, and in the depth of her
own heart the watching came nearer to actual living than any
activity she had known. She was an on-looker--but an on-looker
who stood, as it were, on the steps of the arena, who, by a
single forward movement, could feel the sand under her feet,
the breath of the battle on her face; and in this knowledge
she rested satisfied.
There were hours when Loder seemed scarcely conscious of
her existence; but on those occasions she smiled in her serene
way--and went on waiting. She knew that each day, before the
afternoon had passed, he would come into her sitting-room, his
face thoughtful, his hands full of books or papers, and,
dropping into one of the comfortable, studious chairs, would
ask laconically for tea.
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