At last involuntarily they turned towards each other.
"Come!" Loder said, abruptly. "It's only across the road."
Fleet Street is generally very quiet, once midnight is passed;
and Eve had no need of guidance or protection as they crossed
the pavement, shining like ice in the lamplight. They crossed
it slowly, walking apart; for the dread of physical contact
that had possessed them in the cab seemed to have fallen on
them again.
Inquisitiveness has little place in the region of the city,
and they gained the opposite footpath unnoticed by the casual
passer-by. Then, still holding apart, they reached and
entered Clifford's Inn.
Inside the entrance they paused, and Eve shivered involuntarily.
"How gray it is!" she said, faintly. "And how cold! Like a
graveyard."
Loder turned to her. Far one moment control seemed shaken;
his blood surged, his vision clouded; the sense that life and
love were still within his reach filled him overwhelmingly.
He turned towards Eve; he half extended his hands.
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