She faced him bravely. "As much as that—it pleased me to say what it was my right to say."
"Oh! It was the queen, then, and the—beggar man. Eve, come back."
She was at the door, but she turned. "I'll come back if you will beg my pardon. Richard is not a beggar, and I am not the queen. How hateful you are, Pip."
"I won't beg your pardon. And let's have this out right now, Eve."
"Have what out?"
"Sit down, and I'll tell you."
Once more they were seated with the table between them. Pip's back was to the window, but Eve faced the broad expanse of sky and sea. A faint pink flush was on the waters: a silver star hung at the edge of a crescent moon. There was no sound but the purr of machinery and the mewing of gulls in the distance.
Eve was in pink—a straight linen frock with a low white collar. It gave her an air of simplicity quite unlike her usual elegance. Pip feasted his eyes on her.
"You've got to face it. Brooks doesn't care."
"He does care."