The quietness was plainly determined for her by a quick vision of its being the best assistance she could show.

Had he an inward terror that explained his superficial nervousness, the incoherence of a loquacity designed, it would seem, to check in each direction her advance?
He only fed it in that case by allowing his precautionary benevolence to put him in so much deeper.

Where indeed could he have supposed she wanted to come out, and what that she could ever do for him would really be so beautiful as this present chance to smooth his confusion and add as much as possible to that refined satisfaction with himself which would proceed from his having dealt with a difficult hour in a gallant and delicate way?
To force upon him an awkwardness was like forcing a disfigurement or a hurt, so that at the end of a minute, during which the expression of her face became a kind of uplifted view of her opportunity, she arrived at the appearance of having changed places with him and of their being together precisely in order that he--not she--should be let down easily.
II "But surely you're not going already ?" she asked.

"Why in the world then do you suppose I appealed to you ?" "Bless me, no; I've lots of time." He dropped, laughing for very eagerness, straight into another chair.

"You're too awfully interesting.
Is it really an 'appeal' ?" Putting the question indeed he could scarce even yet allow her a chance to answer it.