Once or twice as they traversed the Strand, Loder made a
movement as if to break the silence, but nothing followed it.
He continued to lean forward with a certain dogged stiffness,
his clasped hands resting on the doors of the cab, his eyes
staring straight ahead. Not once, as they threaded their way,
did he dare to glance at Eve, though every movement, every
stir of her garments, was forced upon his consciousness by his
acutely awakened senses.
When at last they drew up before the dark archway of Middle
Temple Lane, he descended hastily. And as he mechanically
turned to protect Eve's dress from the wheel, he looked at her
fully for the first time since their enterprise had been
undertaken. As he looked he felt his heart sink. He had
expected to see the marks of suffering on her face, but the
expression he saw suggested something more than mere mental
pain.
All the rich color that usually deepened and softened the
charm of her beauty had been erased as if by a long illness;
and against the new pallor of her skin her blue eyes, her
black hair and eyebrows, seemed startlingly dark.
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