"No, there wasn't—anything," I said wearily.
"Then, Jeff——" she cried gladly.
And the next moment she was at my knee again, overflowing with comfort and compassion.
"You poor boy—you poor darling boy!" she crooned, so melted by my contrition that my offence went uncondemned. "Poor love!... And," she looked adorably up, "how could Evie reproach you, Jeff, when it was all for her? Darling!" she broke out, "you ought to reproach me, for thinking.... But you were so fearfully solemn.... I thought perhaps you hadn't loved Evie.... Has always loved Evie, hasn't he? And will always love her, yes? Great strong hand!"
And as she murmured thus, again I thought of Louie. It was with something like awe that I did so. "I think you'll find that sooner or later you've got to tell her." How did she know that? Did she know it? Had she foreseen how half-attempts would end, and known them beforehand to be wasted breath?
Then there came upon me the great need to see Louie again. I must see her, and quickly. With Evie still unenlightened, the actual perils of a meeting between herself and Kitty stood forward again, exactly as before. Evie herself might not now wish for such a meeting, but that would be on my account, and not that, if Kitty didn't mind, or positively wished it, she saw any reason against it. Why should she, if Kitty didn't?... Yes, I must see Louie again, at once. To-morrow was Sunday. I must see her on the Monday. I must write—telephone—do something——
"And to-morrow, Jeff," Evie was saying, with decision, "you really must have a walk. You're working yourself ill—you look worried to death. I can't come, of course, but I wish you'd go to Amersham or Chalfont or somewhere, just for a blow. Leave horrid business just for one day, and I'll have a nice supper ready for you when you come back. I shall be all right.... Hush! Listen!"
From upstairs had come a low, reedy cry.
"That's Jackie—I must fly! Don't sit down here, dear—come now——"