r months to come. That will leave the space by the
window for my writing-table."
While they discussed such safe matters as the disposal of the furniture
they never ceased secretly to take stock of each other. What people
say to each other at any time only represents a fraction of the
intercourse that is taking place. Under cover of the most trifling
conversation there may be exciting reconnaisances going on, scout-work
and even pitched battles of the spirit.
Evan could not make her out at all. She seemed to single him out, to
encourage him as far as a self-respecting woman might, yet an instinct
warned him not to bank on it. There was an unflattering impersonal
quality in her encouragement; behind it one glimpsed formidable
reserves. She was wrapped in reticence like a mantle. Evan had a
feeling that if she had been really drawn to him she would not have
been so nice to him. On the other hand "coquette" did not fit her at
all; not with those eyes. Evan thought he knew a coquette when he saw
one; their blandishments were not such as hers.
So for a while all went swimmingly, and the moments flew. Evan managed
to make the business of arranging the furniture last out the greater
part of the evening. To save her face she bade him go at intervals,
but he always contrived to find an excuse to delay his departure.
There was no reticence in Evan. He loved her at sight and his instinct
was to open his heart. Of course he was not quite guileless; the
portrait of himself that he drew for her was not exactly an
unflattering one, but it was a pretty honest one under the
circumstances. He was careful not to bore her, and to grace his tale
with humour.
Oddly enough the more of himself that he offered her, the less pleased
she seemed to be. As the evening wore on she developed a tartness that
was inexplicable to Evan. He cast back in his mind in vain to discover
the cause of his offense. Yet she would not let him stop talking about
himself either, but drew him on with many questions, interested in his
tale it would seem, merely for the sake of making sarcastic comments.
As for talking about herself, nothing would induce her to do so.
It was a more unamiable side of her character that she revealed, but
the enamoured Evan, even while she flouted him, forgave her.
"Something is the matter," he said to himself. "This is not her true
self." He told her of the black dog that had been on his back all day.
"But
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