As she came towards them, Fraide drew away his hand in readiness to greet her.
“Here comes my godchild!” he said. “I often wish, Chilcote, that I could do away with the prefix.” He added the last words in an undertone as he reached them; then he responded warmly to her smile.
“What!” he said. “Turning the Terrace into the Garden of Eden in January! We cannot allow this.”
Eve laughed. “Blame Lady Sarah!” she said. “We met at lunch, and she carried me off. Needless to say I hadn't to ask where.”
They both laughed, and Loder joined, a little uncertainly. He had yet to learn that the devotion of Fraide and his wife was a long-standing jest in their particular set.
At the sound of his tardy laugh Eve turned to him. “I hope I didn't rob you of all sleep last night,” she said. “I caught him in his den,” she explained, turning to Fraide, “and invaded it most courageously. I believe we talked till two.”
Again Loder noticed bow quickly she looked from him to Fraide. The knowledge roused his self-assertion.
“I had an excellent night,” he said. “Do I look as if I hadn't slept?”
Somewhat slowly and reluctantly Eve looked back. “No,” she said, truthfully, and with a faint surprise that to Loder seemed the first genuine emotion she had shown regarding him. “No, I don't think I ever saw you look so well.” She was quite unconscious and very charming as she made the admission. It struck Loder that her coloring of hair and eyes gained by daylight—were brightened and vivified by their setting of sombre river and sombre stone.
Fraide smiled at her affectionately; then looked at Loder. “Chilcote has got anew lease of nerves, Eve,” he said, quietly. “And I—believe—I have got a new henchman. But I see my wife beckoning to me. I must have a word with her before she flits away. May I be excused?” He made a courteous gesture of apology; then smiled at Eve.