The big brown eyes searched his steadily.
He smiled back. . . .
“What is it, Jeremy? Why are you playing up?”
Jeremy dropped her fingers and turned away.
“The burnt child,” he said slowly, “dreads the fire.”
“Are you sorry I came?”
“Oh, Eve.”
He drew in his breath sharply, hesitated and fell to playing with his moustache. . . .
Dinner was served.
The meal did much for both of them, as meals can. Jeremy’s headache passed, and Eve was refreshed. The flesh being fortified, the spirit lifted up its head.