'Eva,' he said thickly, 'you know what the business is; you know, don't you?'
She smiled. That smile, the softness of her hand, the sparkle in her eye, the heave of her small bosom ... it was the divinest miracle! Clive, manufacturer of majolica, went hot and then cold, and then his wits were suddenly his own again.
'That's all right,' he murmured, and sighed, and placed on Eva's lips the first kiss that had ever lain there.
'Dear boy,' she said later, 'you should have come up to Pireford, not here, and when father was there.'
'Should I?' he answered happily. 'It just occurred to me all of a sudden this morning that you would be here, and that I couldn't wait.'
'You will come up to-night and see father?'
'I had meant to.'
'You had better go home now.'
'Had I?'
She nodded, putting her lips tightly together—a trick of hers.