Holding her close to him, he repeated his declaration again
and again, as though repetition ratified it. He found no need
to question her feeling for him--he had divined it in a flash
of inspiration as she stood waiting in the doorway of the
gallery; but his own surrender was a different matter.
As the carriage passed round the corner of Whitehall and
dipped into the traffic of Piccadilly he bent down again until
her soft hair brushed his face; and the warm personal contact,
the slight, fresh smell of violets so suggestive of her
presence, stirred' him afresh.
"Eve," he said, vehemently, "do you understand? Do you know
that I have loved you always--from the very first?" As he
said it he bent still nearer, kissing her lips, her forehead,
her hair.
At the same moment the horses slackened speed and then stopped,
arrested by one of the temporary blocks that so often occur in
the traffic of Piccadillv Circus.
Loder, preoccupied with his own feelings, scarcely noticed the
halt, but Eve drew away from him laughing.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363