h ardent
emotion. If she granted him her lips they had no fervour respondent to
his own; she made a sport of it, forgot it as soon as possible. Upon
Hilliard's vehement nature this acted provocatively; at times he was
all but frenzied with the violence of his sensual impulses. Yet Eve's
control of him grew more assured the less she granted of herself; a
look, a motion of her lips, and he drew apart, quivering but subdued.
At one such moment he exclaimed:

"You had better not come here at all. I love you too insanely."

Eve looked at him, and silently began to shed tears. He implored her
pardon, prostrated himself, behaved in a manner that justified his
warning. But Eve stifled the serious drama of the situation, and forced
him to laugh with her.

In these days architectural study made little way.

Patty Ringrose was coming for the Easter holidays. She would arrive on
Good Friday. "As the weather is so very bad still," wrote Eve to
Hilliard, "will you let us come to see you on Saturday? Sunday may be
better for an excursion of some sort."

And thus it was arranged. Hilliard made ready his room to receive the
fair visitors, who would come at about eleven in the morning. As usual
nowadays, he felt discontented, but, after all, Patty's influence might
be a help to him, as it had been in worse straits.

CHAPTER XXI

To-day he had the house to himself. The corn-dealers shop was closed,
as on a Sunday; the optician and his blind wife had locked up their
rooms and were spending Easter-tide, it might be hoped, amid more
cheerful surroundings. Hilliard sat with his door open, that he might
easily hear the knock which announced his guests at the entrance below.

It sounded, at length, but timidly. Had he not been listening, he would
not have perceived it. Eve's handling of the knocker was firmer than
that, and in a different rhythm. Apprehensive of disappointment, he
hurried downstairs and opened the door to Patty Ringrose--Patty alone.

With a shy but pleased laugh, her cheeks warm and her eyes bright, she
jerked out her hand to him as in the old days.

"I know you won't be glad to see me. I'm so sorry. I said I had better
not come."

"Of course I am glad to see you. But where's Eve?"

"It's so unfortunate--she has such a bad headache!" panted the girl.
"She couldn't possibly come, and I wanted to stay with her, I said. I
should only disappoint you."

"It's a pity, of course; but I'm glad you came, for all