“We were to talk of the past,” she said quickly. “D’you remember this
day a year ago?”
Jeremy knitted his brows.
“Was that the first time we met?”
“It was,” said Eve. “May Day 1929. Here in this house. . . . Jeremy,
I’ve a confession to make. I asked that you should be introduced to me.”
“Well, I asked too.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know you,” said Jeremy Broke.
“Why?”
“I suppose you attracted me.”
“I must be attractive,” said Eve.
“You are.”
Miss Carew shrugged her white shoulders.
“I’m still unmarried,” she said.
“That,” said Jeremy Broke, “is your little fault. At least, Rumour has
it that you’ve turned a good many down.”
“Rumour is wrong,” said Eve. “I admit I’ve had one or two overtures, but
the idea of being married for my money never appealed to me.”
“I shouldn’t have thought,” said Broke, “that you need be afraid. If you
were forty, instead of twenty-four; if you had a face like the back of a
hansom; if——”
“Here,” said Eve. “Don’t cut out the gilt. There was the making of a
compliment. Besides, I value your opinion. What is my face like,
Jeremy?”
The man regarded her.
“It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“My mouth,” said Eve, “is too large.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Broke. “It’s just perfect. So’s your nose, an’—an’
the rest. That’s why it seems so wicked to cut your hair.”
“Was it my face that attracted you—last year?”
The man considered.
“Your face and your pretty ways.”
“You just felt you wanted to know me?”
“Yes.”
Eve sighed.
“Well, you’ve had your wish,” she said. “I mean, you’ve got to know me
pretty well.”
“You’ve been very sweet,” said Jeremy.
“Don’t mention it,” said Miss Carew. “It’s—it’s been a pleasure.
Besides, I’m very lonely. And I wanted to know you, you know. . . .
Never mind. I hope, when you’re married——”
“I’m not engaged yet.”
“That’s your little fault,” said Eve. “I could mention several ladies
who have put their arms round your neck—certainly figuratively and, for
all I know, literally.”
“Rot”—incredulously.
“My dear, I’ve seen it going on. Don’t be afraid—I’m not going to
mention names.”
“But I’ve no money.”
“What does that matter? They have.”
“I think you’re mistaken,” said Broke. “Everyone’s always very nice, but
people don’t pick up stray curs——”
“How dare you say such a thing?”
Eve was on her feet. Her brown eyes were flaming, and there was wrath in
her voice.
Slowly Jeremy rose.
“My dear Eve——”
“How dare you speak like that? It’s cheap and paltry and it’s a wicked
lie. D’you think I’d give my friendship to—to a stray cur?”
“You have,” said Broke. “I’ve seen you. Down on the Portsmouth Road. His
blood was all over your dress, and he died in your arms.”
“Yes, but——”
“I’ll take back ‘cur,’ if it offends you: but I’m a stray, Eve. I’ve
nothing to offer at all. I can only just live. A plumber makes twice the
money that they pay me. The jobs I was trained for are bust or sold or
given to—to ‘business men.’ If it wasn’t for Babel, I should be on the
streets, and—— Oh, Eve, my lady, for God’s sake don’t cry. I didn’t
mean. . . .”
Instinctively he put out his arms, and the girl slipped into them. . . .
He held her gently enough, comforting her, patting her shoulder, talking
in steady tones of bygone days and gilding the future with a laughing
tongue. . . .
After a little, Eve had herself in hand.