together. Finally, with a sense of angry exultation, Hilliard saw
them part.

For a little while Eve stood watching the musicians, who were making
ready to play a new piece. As soon as the first note sounded she
moved slowly, her eyes cast down. With fiercely throbbing heart,
thinking and desiring and hoping he knew not what, Hilliard once
more followed her. Night had now fallen; the grounds of the
Exhibition shone with many-coloured illumination; the throng grew
dense. It was both easy and necessary to keep very near to the
object of his interest.

There sounded a clinking of plates, cups, and glasses. People were
sitting at tables in the open air, supplied with refreshments by the
waiters who hurried hither and thither. Eve, after a show of
hesitation, took a seat by a little round table which stood apart;
her pursuer found a place whence he could keep watch. She gave an
order, and presently there was brought to her a glass of wine with a
sandwich.

Hilliard called for a bottle of ale: he was consumed with thirst.

"Dare I approach her?" he asked himself. "Is it possible? And, if
possible, is it any use?"

The difficulty was to explain his recognition of her. But for that,
he might justify himself in addressing her.

She had finished her wine and was looking round. Her glance fell
upon him, and for a moment rested. With a courage not his own,