She made no search for her husband—not because she was proud, but because she felt that it was vain. If he was coming he would come. If he was not . . . Had she stumbled across him, she would have begged and prayed. But look she would not. She had no doubt at all that she was up against Fate. And Jeremy had always said that Fate didn’t like you to try to force his hand. ‘So sure as you do, my lady, you lose your labour.’
She often wondered why she had lost her head that bitter afternoon. After all, to exceed a limit was not a grave offence. He was careful in traffic, no doubt: and then, slipping into the Park, he hurried along. Besides, he was only hastening back to her. . . . And he had been so humble.
Eve decided that she had been possessed. Some malignant devil had entered into her soul, distorting truth, ranting of motes and beams, raising a false resentment of a fictitious injury.
To say that she missed him is to call Leviathan a fish. Only the fetish that she must do his will saved her alive. The night of his going she lifted up her head, shook the tears from her eyes, and answered two letters that she had left too long. . . .
Sitting before the fire, Eve thought of the past with blank, see-nothing eyes. For the millionth time she wondered where Jeremy was, how he was faring, what he was doing to live. Never had riches seemed so empty, luxury so drear as they had seemed since she had been alone. The thought that, as like as not, he was going hungry tore at her heart. . . .
She picked up the paper to try to distract her thoughts.
Staring straight at her was the advertisement of _The St. James’s Review_. This was announcing the contents of the current issue. Third on the list was:
“I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to give his address, but if you write him a letter care of this office, it will be sent on at once.”
A child’s letter went off by messenger within half an hour.
_I would like to come to you if you will tell me where you are. I have tried very hard to do what you would have liked ever since you went, and if you had been here I should have been very happy. Please let me come, because, if you don’t, I don’t think I shall be able to go on. I would try, of course, but I think I should break. I’ve tried to write calmly, darling, but I shall be very glad to hear as soon as you can. Oh, Jeremy, my precious, I suppose you couldn’t wire._