As soon as she felt that they were alone, she realised a jar between herself and him.
His manner was much as usual, but there was an underlying effort and difficulty which her sensitiveness caught at once.

A sudden wave of girlish trouble--remorse--swept over her.

In her impulsiveness she moved close to him as they were passing through her mother's little sitting-room, and put her hand on his arm.
"I don't think I was nice just now," she said, stammering.

"I didn't mean it.

I seem to be always driven into opposition--into a feeling of war--when you are so good to me--so much too good to me!" Aldous had turned at her first word.