was any chance of you and Eve coming to live in London, but I
suppose that's too good to hope for. We don't get many things as we
wish them in this world. And yet I oughtn't to say that either, for
if it hadn't been for you I should never have seen Paris, which was
so awfully jolly! But you'll be coming for a holiday, won't you? I
should so like just to see you, if ever you do. It isn't like it was
at the old shop. There's a great deal of business done here, and
very little time to talk to anyone in the shop. But many girls have
worse things to put up with than I have, and I won't make you think
I'm a grumbler."

The whole of January went by before Hilliard and Eve again saw each
other. The lover wrote at length that he could bear it no longer,
that he was coming to Dudley, if only for the mere sight of Eve's
face; she must meet him in the waiting-room at the railway station.
She answered by return of post, "I will come over next Sunday, and
be with you at twelve o'clock, but I must leave very early, as I am
afraid to be out after nightfall." And this engagement was kept.

The dress of mourning became her well; it heightened her always
noticeable air of refinement, and would have constrained to a
reverential tenderness even had not Hilliard naturally checked
himself from any bolder demonstration of joy. She spoke in a low,
soft voice, seldom raised her eyes, and manifested a new gentleness
very touching to Hilliard, though at the same time, and he knew not
how or why, it did not answer to his desire. A midday meal was in
readiness for her; she pretended to eat, but in reality scarce
touched the food.

"You must taste old Narramore's port wine," said her entertainer.