And there will be storms, Celie," she concluded, with a laugh.
Celia blushed.
"I suppose there will," she said regretfully.

There were, indeed, moments when she was frightened of Harry Wethermill, but frightened with a delicious thrill of knowledge that he was only stern because he cared so much.
But in a day or two there began to intrude upon her happiness a stinging dissatisfaction with her past life.

At times she fell into melancholy, comparing her career with that of the man who loved her.

At times she came near to an extreme irritation with Helene Vauquier.

Her lover was in her thoughts.