Eve began to walk to and fro, and Canterton kept pace with her.
“Let’s be practical. Let’s be cold, and sure of things. You want me to be a spiritual wife to you, and a spiritual mother to Lynette?”
“Yes.”
“And you think you can live such a life?”
“I know I can.”
She was smiling, the strange, ironical, half-exultant smile of a love that is not blind.
“You are sure of yourself. Let me ask you a question. Are you sure of me?”
He looked at her searchingly in the dim light.
“Eve, I am not vain enough to ask you whether——”
“Whether I care?”