She took refuge in the undeniable fact that the quality of his mind made an impression upon her, that his talk was sympathetic.
Miss Barfoot submitted to this influence; she confessed that her cousin's talk had always had a charm for her.
Could it be that this man reciprocated, and more than reciprocated, her complex feeling?
To-day only accident had prevented him from making an avowal of love--unless she strangely mistook him.

All the evening she had dwelt on this thought; it grew more and more astonishing.

Was he worse than she had imagined?
Under cover of independent thought, of serious moral theories, did he conceal mere profligacy and heartlessness?
It was an extraordinary thing to have to ask such questions in relation to herself.

It made her feel as if she had to learn herself anew, to form a fresh conception of her personality.

She the object of a man's passion! And the thought was exultant.