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Loder's interest quickened as his eye caught the mark. It had been agreed between them that only engagements essential to Chilcote's public life need be carried through during his absence, and these, to save confusion, were to be crossed in blue pencil.
So softly that to ears less comprehending than Loder's their significance might have been lost as his rigid attitude and unresponsive manner might have conveyed lack of understanding to any eyes less observant than Eve's. For a long space there was no word spoken. At last, with a very gentle pressure, her fingers tightened over his hands. "John " she began, gently. But the word died away.
He was dressed in a shabby tweed suit; his face looked pale and set with a slightly nervous tension, but besides the look and a certain added restlessness of glance there was no visible change. Reaching Loder, he held out his hand. "Well?" he said, quickly. The other looked at him questioningly. "Well? Well? How has it gone?" "The scheme? Oh, excellently!" Loder's manner was abrupt.
In Loder's well-worn, well-brushed tweed suit he felt stranded on his own personality, bereft for the moment of the familiar accessories that helped to cloak deficiencies and keep the wheel of conventionality comfortably rolling. He stood unpleasantly conscious of himself, unable to shape his sensations even in thought.
Again Eve bent her head. "Well, when I looked out of the carriage window to discover its cause the first man I saw was Chilcote." Eve started slightly. This swift, unexpected linking of Chilcote's name with the most exalted moment of her life stirred her unpleasantly. Some glimmering of Loder's intention in so linking it, broke through the web of disturbed and conflicting thoughts.
"I would prefer to dissever all connection with the Bridge at the same time; but am willing to remain at the office until you find a suitable person for the post." Having read the letter Toni let it fall upon her knee, while she gazed dreamily into the red heart of the fire, her brain working slowly as she tried to understand the significance of Miss Loder's epistle.
Loder was silent for a moment. "Of our love," he said, steadily. She colored deeply. "But why?" she stammered; "why? We have done no wrong. We need do no wrong. We would be friends nothing more; and I oh, I so need a friend!" For almost the first time in Loder's knowledge of her, her voice broke, her control deserted her.
Chilcote, left standing alone in the middle of the room, listened while the last sound of the other's footsteps was audible on the uncarpeted stairs; then, with a furtive, hurried gesture, he caught up the green-shaded lamp and passed into Loder's bedroom. To all men come portentous moments, difficult moments, triumphant moments.
Without saying anything definite, she contrived to let Toni know she sympathized with her in the matter of Miss Loder's tenancy of the library; and although Toni never let slip a word which might have savoured of disloyalty to her husband, Mrs. Herrick knew, with a queer, uncanny shrewdness peculiar to her, that the girl's marriage was not altogether happy.
Owen, absorbed in his book, did not notice her taciturnity, and though he responded politely to Miss Loder's chatter, it was evident he was not captivated by her undoubted social gifts to the extent of forgetting the purpose of her presence. As for Miss Loder, Toni had guessed her attitude towards Mr. Rose's wife correctly enough.
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