countenance, had obliterated that pale image of her bygone self. He
saw her now as a beautiful woman, mysterious to him still in many
respects, yet familiar as though they had been friends for years.

"Then, whatever life is before me," he said. "I shall have done
_one_ thing that is worth doing."

"Perhaps--if everyone's life is worth saving," Eve answered in a
voice just audible.

"Everyone's is not; but yours was."

Two men who had been sitting not far from them rose and walked away.
As if more at her ease for this secession, Eve looked at her
companion, and said in a tone of intimacy:

"How I must have puzzled you when you first saw me in London!"

He answered softly:

"To be sure you did. And the thought of it puzzles me still."

"Oh, but can't you understand? No; of course you can't--I have
told you so little. Just give me an idea of what sort of person you
expected to find."

"Yes, I will. Judging from your portrait, and from what I was told
of you, I looked for a sad, solitary, hard-working girl--rather
poorly dressed--taking no pleasure--going much to chapel--
shrinking from the ordinary world."