And now four months had gone by. . . .
Sitting before the fire, Eve thought of the past with blank, see-nothing eyes. For the millionth time she wondered where Jeremy was, how he was faring, what he was doing to live. Never had riches seemed so empty, luxury so drear as they had seemed since she had been alone. The thought that, as like as not, he was going hungry tore at her heart. . . .
She picked up the paper to try to distract her thoughts.
Staring straight at her was the advertisement of The St. James’s Review. This was announcing the contents of the current issue. Third on the list was:
BABEL . . . . Jeremy Broke.
A child fell upon the telephone. . . .
A sub-editor or someone was speaking.
“I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to give his address, but if you write him a letter care of this office, it will be sent on at once.”
“All right,” said Eve. “Thank you.”
A child’s letter went off by messenger within half an hour.