I caught glimpses of her occasionally in the auto, or at the post-office, but I took care that she should not see me.

I did not wish to be seen, though precisely why I could not have explained even to myself.

The memory of that night in the rain, and of our meetings in the grove, troubled me because I could not keep them from my mind.

They kept recurring, no matter what I did or where I went.

No, I did not want to meet her again.