Her face was averted as he spoke, but he felt hen arm quiver;
and when at last she lifted her head, their eyes met. Neither
spoke, but in an instant Loder's arms were round her.
For a long, silent space they stood holding each other closely.
Then, with a sharp movement, Eve freed Herself. Her color was
still high, her eyes still peculiarly bright, but the bunch of
violets she had worn in her belt had fallen to the ground.
"John--" she said, quickly; but on the word her breath caught.
With a touch of nervousness she stooped to pick up the
flowers.
Loder noticed both voice and gesture. "What is it?" he said.
"What were you going to say?"
But she made no answer. For a second longer she searched for
the violets; then, as he bent to assist her, she stood up
quickly and laughed--a short, embarrassed laugh.
"How absurd and nervous I am!" she exclaimed. "Like a
schoolgirl instead of a woman of twenty-four. You must help
me to be sensible." Her cheeks still burned, her manner was
still excited, like one who holds an emotion or an impulse at
bay.
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