We turned into a tea shop and sat in a remote corner of the place. I had made up my mind to say no more to her that day, but the opportunity was irresistible.
There was a little desultory music, a hum of distant conversation, and Eve herself was thoughtful. I pleaded with her earnestly.
"Eve," I begged, "if only you would listen to me seriously! I simply cannot bear the thought of the danger you are in all the time. Give it up, dear, this moment—to-day! We'll lead any sort of life you like. We'll wander all over Europe—America, if you say the word. I am quite well enough off to take you anywhere you choose to go and still see that your father is quite comfortable. You've made such a difference in such a short time!"
She was certainly quieter and her tone was softer. She avoided looking at me.
"Perhaps," she said very gently, "this feeling you speak of would pass away just as quickly."
"There isn't any fear of that!" I assured her. "As I care for you now, Eve, I must care for you always; and you know it's torture for me to think of you in trouble—perhaps in disgrace. As my wife you shall be safe. You'll have me always there to protect you. I should like to take you even farther afield for a time—to India or Japan, if you like—and then come back and start life all over again."
"You're rather a dear!" she murmured softly. "I will tell you something at any rate. I do care for you—a little—better than I've ever cared for any one else; but I can't decide quite so quickly."
"Give up this adventure to-night!" I begged. "I hate to mention it, Eve, but if money—I put my checkbook in my pocket to-day. If your father would only—"
She stopped me firmly.
"After the things you have told me," she said, "I don't think I could bear to have him take your money to-day. I can't quite do as you wish; but what you have said shall make a difference, I promise you. I can't say more. Please drive me home now."