Finch got to his feet, trembling. He was bewildered, frightened by this sudden meeting with Eden. He remembered his last encounter with him. That summer night when he had discovered Eden and Pheasant in the birch wood together. His mind fastened on an incident strikingly similar in both meetings, and yet how dissimilar! On each occasion Eden had, at a moment of climax, struck a match, illuminated a face. But in the first instance it had been the white, terrified face of Finch; now it was his own, hollow-cheeked, feverish. Then he had exclaimed bitterly: "What a worm you are, brother Finch!" Now he said, in a low tone of reckless self-possession: "Hullo, Finch! You here, too? God, what a meeting!"
"Hullo!" returned Finch, but he could not hold out his hand. His heart sank when he looked at Eden. He had helped to bring him to this.
"Eden, Eden!" cried their uncle. "I am distressed to find you looking so ill. I could not have believed"
"Oh, I'm not in such bad shape as I look." He stared at these newly arrived members of his family in satiric mirth. "Lord, what a quaint pair you are! When did you come here, and why?"
Ernest and Finch glanced at each other uncomfortably.
"I—he," mumbled the boy.
"He—I," stammered Ernest.
Eden broke into laughter. "I see it all! You ran away, Finch, and Uncle Ernest came to fetch you. Or was it the other way about? Never mind, it's enough that you're here! I wouldn't have believed you'd have the guts."
"You must come back to my hotel," said Ernest.
"I wish I could invite you to my lodgings, but they're too tough for you, by a long shot."
Ernest was greatly upset. He turned to Finch. "Get a taxi. Eden isn't fit to walk."
On the way to the hotel, Eden asked: "Have you seen Alayne?"
"Yes, I've had dinner with her—and luncheon. M-yes. She's looking lovely, Eden."
