He had the most grateful heart, had our Tommy.
When next she came to see him! That was while his ankle still nailed him to the chair, a fortnight or so during which Tommy was at his best, sending gracious messages by Elspeth to the many who called to inquire, and writing hard at his new work, pad on knee, so like a brave soul whom no unmerited misfortune could subdue that it would have done you good merely to peep at him through the window.

Grizel came several times, and the three talked very ordinary things, mostly reminiscences; she was as much a plain-spoken princess as ever, but often he found her eyes fixed on him wistfully, and he knew what they were saying; they spoke so eloquently that he was a little nervous lest Elspeth should notice.

It was delicious to Tommy to feel that there was this little unspoken something between him and Grizel; he half regretted that the time could not be far distant when she must put it into words--as soon, say, as Elspeth left the room; an exquisite moment, no doubt, but it would be the plucking of the flower.
Don't think that Tommy conceived Grizel to be in love with him.

On my sacred honour, that would have horrified him.
Curiously enough, she did not take the first opportunity Elspeth gave her of telling him in words how much she admired his brave confession.
She was so honest that he expected her to begin the moment the door closed, and now that the artistic time had come for it, he wanted it; but no.

He was not hurt, but he wondered at her shyness, and cast about for the reason.