"Adam," she said, giving my arm a gentle squeeze, "what is it that is troubling you? Something does. It has for a long time."
Now that was what I did not expect, that Eve should think me troubled, for I thought that I had been most careful. But I should have known better. Eve always knows. And the thing that had been troubling me more than any other was that I had not thought of that no one else could do but I.
I looked down into her eyes, and I saw there many things; but love and longing most of all, the longing to comfort me if she could but lay her finger on the hurt.
I smiled. "It is not so bad as that," I said.
"Well, kiss me, Adam," she said, "and tell me."
I obeyed orders—or part of them.
"On the day of the draft," I said, "I was in the village, and I saw all the inhabitants assembled, and they scanned each batch of numbers as the news came, but not a third of them knew what their own numbers were. Some did, and I saw two that were drafted. One of the two went out from that assembly with eyes that saw nothing, looking as if he went to his execution. The other laughed, and said that that settled it, and he was glad. And tell me if you can the answer to my riddle—which has nothing to do with the assembly in the village—and say what there is that I can do, but no one else."
She laughed. "Is that the matter? And must the thing be useful? I know several things that no one else can do, but they are not useful. If it must be useful,—well,—I cannot think of it at this moment, but I have no doubt I shall." She leaned forward, and tried to look into my eyes; and failing that, she shook me. "What is the nature of this thing that you must do? Look at me, and tell me."
I was afraid to look at her lest she guess, and I was not ready to tell her. I might never be ready.
"It is nothing, Eve," I said: "nothing of importance. It is not worth a minute's worry." And that was true too.