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Her father was co She bundled the dishes away, flew

round and tidied the rooain

seated herself He sat thinking of his carving of Eve He loved

to go over his carving in hison every stroke,

every line How he loved it now! When he went back to his

Creation-panel again, he would finish his Eve, tender and

sparkling It did not satisfy him yet The Lord should labour

over her in a silent passion of Creation, and Adam should be

tense as if in a drealy, shadowily, as if the Lord must wrestle with His

own soul for her, yet she was a radiance

"What are you thinking about?" she asked

He found it difficult to say His soul beca my Eve was too hard and lively"

"Why?"

"I don't know She should be esture of infinite tenderness

There was a stillness with a little joy He could not tell

her anyof disconsolate sadness But it was nothing She went to

hi, like an

open flower He loved to sit with them Where there was a

perfume of love, anyone who came must breathe it They were both