She played with his fingers, her head bent low, and he was startled by the softness of her touch.
'What idle hands,' he said, looking at them; 'you were vain of them, as a child.'
But she did not wish him to dwell upon her vanity.
'Julian, have I not been consistent, all my life? Are you taking me seriously? Do you know that I am betraying all the truth? One hasn't often the luxury of betraying all the truth. I could betray even greater depths of truth, for your sake. Are you treating what I tell you with the gravity it deserves? You must not make a toy of my secret. I have no strength of character, Julian. I suppose, in its stead, I have been given strength of love. Do you want what I offer you? Will you take the responsibility of refusing it?'
'Is that a threat?' he asked, impressed and moved.
She shrugged slightly and raised her eyebrows; he thought he had never so appreciated the wonderful mobility of her face.
'I am nothing without the person I love. You have judged me yourself: worthless—what else?—cruel, vain. All that is true. Hitherto I have tried only to make the years pass by. Do you want me to return to such an existence?'
His natural vigour rebelled against her frailty.
'You are too richly gifted, Eve, to abandon yourself to such slackness of life.'