Her gloves, and her flowers, and her other little properties were sweeter to him than any scents, and were more valuable in his eyes than precious stones.

But he had never as yet actually asked her to love him.

But she was so quick a linguist that she had understood down to the last letter what all these tokens had meant.

Her cousin, Captain Scarborough, was to her magnificent, powerful, but terrible withal.

She had asked herself a thousand times whether it would be possible for her to love him and to become his wife.
She had never quite given even to herself an answer to this question till she had suddenly found herself enabled to do so by his over-confidence in asking her to confess that she loved him.