Not before a great drop had fallen on her rose-coloured strings--she knew that quite well.
"Come, be cheerful again.

Smile at me, and tell me what's the matter.
Come, tell me." Hetty turned her head towards him, whispered, "I thought you wouldn't come," and slowly got courage to lift her eyes to him.

That look was too much: he must have had eyes of Egyptian granite not to look too lovingly in return.
"You little frightened bird! Little tearful rose! Silly pet! You won't cry again, now I'm with you, will you ?" Ah, he doesn't know in the least what he is saying.

This is not what he meant to say.

His arm is stealing round the waist again; it is tightening its clasp; he is bending his face nearer and nearer to the round cheek; his lips are meeting those pouting child-lips, and for a long moment time has vanished.