“She came from there—untouched by it all,” thought Wynne. “She deserves her place in the sun.”
A strange restlessness seized him, and he started to pace up and down.
V
Wynne arrived at the theatre earlier than usual that night, and met Eve in one of the corridors.
“Well,” he said.
“Well?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t worked all day—I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry. What have you done?”
“Walked about—and thought.”
“Of what?”