himself did not come until Eileen began to convalesce. And one day he
came and stood by her couch, and looked down, at her. He saw that she
was paler, but the lips were still as scarlet as the petals of the
American Beauties on the table by her side. The rose-colored light
cast a glow over the prettiest breast and shoulders God had ever
moulded! They said very little; it would be interesting to know what
their thoughts were.....

Shortly after Eileen came out of the hospital she sent a little token
of appreciation to Mr. Holbrook, in recognition of his unfailing
kindness during her illness. That same evening they met, by chance,
and as he clasped her hand and thanked her for the little gift, the
pressure of his hand sent a strange thrill to her heart; she stammered
something in a tremulous voice and rushed away. Later in the evening
they met, shall we say again "by chance", at dinner. They danced
together, and the pressure of his strong arms nearly maddened
Eileen.... Oh, why do we play with fire and why is forbidden fruit so
sweet!

A strange woman this, with her dual personality: a Madonna and a lover
of all things good and beautiful, but a Cleopatra when the passionate
fires of her soul were stirred; and this night, a passionate love that
lacked all reason, dominated everything else in her being. When they
had parted and she was alone in her room, sleep refused her offices:
twelve: one: two.... and her eyes still were staring into the
darkness.... Not a sound; all was quiet. She rose from her couch, her
hair streaming, her body all aglow. She donned a flimsy, rose-colored
dressing gown, opened her door, crept silently down the hall and went
bodily into young Holbrook's room. In a dressing gown and slippers he
sat, reading a magazine; he must have been restless, too. "Why Mrs.