not do so now.

Eve was not thinking of the dead woman upstairs. This death came to
her only as a faint reflection of the one great grief which had cut
her life in two--as great griefs do. She was perhaps wondering how
it was that Fitz seemed always to come to her at those moments when
she could not do without him. She was more probably not thinking at
all, but resting as it were in the sense of complete safety and
protection which this man's presence gave her.

There was a little silence, broken only by the sound of street
traffic faintly heard through the plate-glass windows. Fitz was
looking at her, his blue eyes grave and searching. This was not a
man to miss his opportunity, this youngest commander on the list.

"Eve," he said, "I used to think at D'Erraha that you cared for me."

"I have always cared for you," she answered, with a queer little
smile, half bold, half shy.

So Love came in at the windows as Death crept up the stairs.

Before long they heard the doctors go away, but they heeded not.
They only forgot each other when Cipriani de Lloseta came into the
room. The Spaniard's quick eyes read something in Eve's face. He
looked sharply at Fitz, but he said nothing of what he saw.

"So our dear lady has been taken from us," he said quietly, with an
upward jerk of the head.