“Find out if that cab’s engaged,” I said to a footman.
“The cool air——” I said to Eva.
“The cab is not engaged, sir,” said the footman, returning.
“Yes,” said Eva, in answer to my glance.
“Drive to the corner of Sloane Street, by way of the Park,” I told the driver.
I have said that I had forgotten everything except that I loved her. Could it help remembrance now that we two sped alone through empty streets, her warm, palpitating body touching mine?
Julian, his friendship for me, his love for Eva; Margaret and her love for me; my own honour—these things were blotted from my brain.
“Eva!” I murmured; and I took her hand.
“Eva.”
Her wonderful eyes met mine. The mist in them seemed to turn to dew.