"Let us talk in your own room," she added, and going over she opened the door of it and walked in.

The matured modesty of a lost five years did not cloak her actions now.

She was a woman fighting for happiness, and she had been so beaten by the rods of scorn, so smothered by the dust of humiliation, that there had come to her the courage of those who would rather die fighting than in the lethargy of despair.
It was like her old self to take the initiative, but she did it now in so different a way--without masterfulness or assumption.

It was rather like saying, "I will do what I know you wish me to do; I will lay all reserve aside for your sake; I will be bold because I love you." He shut the door behind them and motioned her to a chair.
"No, I will not sit," she said.

"That is too formal.