"At least you have been dreaming of me ?" "To tell the truth," he returned, "I have not dreamed at all." "And I have never left off thinking about you all the time, and have longed so for you.

Look here!" She took a lamp off the chimney-piece, and held up her ball programme before his eyes.

The blank places were filled up with pencil-writing, which looked as if it might be lines of poetry: which in truth it was--Spanish improvisations breathing burning love and passionate longing.

He would have understood or guessed their meaning even if Pilar had not translated them with kisses and caresses.
"Now, you see, you bad boy," she went on, "those were my thoughts while I was away from you.

I had not thought it would be so difficult to enjoy myself without you.