XXXI
THE LAST FLIGHT OF EVELYN
EVELYN went for a few minutes to her room. There she bathed her eyes; for like all women, she was ashamed of the tears that did her honour by attesting the tender intensity of her womanhood.
That done, she went to the laboratory, where she found Dorothy at work. To her she said:—
“Please let me have my book. I want Mr. Kilgariff to read it.”
Dorothy asked no explanation. She needed none. She went at once and fetched the manuscript. Evelyn took it and returned to the parlour, where she placed it in Kilgariff’s hands.
“Please read that, carefully,” she said. “Then you will understand.”
“If you mean,” he replied, “that anything this manuscript may reveal concerning your past life can lessen my love for you, you are utterly wrong, and the reading is unnecessary. If you wish only that I shall know you better, and more perfectly understand the influences that have made you the woman you are, I shall be glad to read every line and word that you have written.”