And she liked the way he showed his teeth when he laughed.

She always thought when he laughed most unreservedly that he was going to show more of them; but he never did; it interested her.
And it interested her the way people said: "Prescott?
Oh yes--he was in Cuba, wasn't he ?" and then smiled a little, perhaps shrugged a trifle, and added: "Great fellow--Prescott.

Never made a mess of things, anyhow." To have vague association with the mysterious things of life, and yet not to have "made a mess of things"-- what more could one ask?
Of course, pounding irritably with her club, the only reason for not marrying him was that there were too many reasons for doing so.

She could not think of a single person who would furnish the stimulus of an objection.

Stupid to have every one so pleased! But there must always be something wrong, so let that be appeased in having everything just right.
And then there was Cuba for one's adventurous sense.
She looked about her with satisfaction.