Then Veronica smiled faintly, and drew herself up--or lengthened herself--as slight young girls have a way of doing when they are pleased, and she turned a little in the movement, and glanced at the clock, still faintly smiling.
Bosio was watching her, and he could not help admiring her lithe figure and small, well-poised head, that had a sort of girlish royalty of carriage not at all connected with beauty; for she was not beautiful, and she herself knew that there were times when she was almost ugly.

He saw and admired, and he cursed himself for what he meant to do.

He was not sure, even now, that he could do it.
There was no awkwardness in the silence, Veronica thought, for it seemed to her that he understood, and that words were hardly necessary.

If she had meant to refuse him, she would have done so through Matilde.

She smiled, looking at the clock, and thinking about it all.