But the fibre of him--of which she had just felt the toughness--was delicate and sensitive as her own, and after a very short recoil he met her with great chivalry and sweetness, agreeing that everything should be put off for six weeks, till Easter in fact.

She would have been very grateful to him but that something--some secret thought--checked the words she tried to say.
"I must go home then," he said, rising and trying to smile.

"I shall have to make things straight with Aunt Neta, and set a great many arrangements in train.

Now, you will _try_ to think of something else?
Let me leave you with a book that I can imagine you will read." She let herself be tended and thought for.

At the last, just as he was going, he said: "Have you seen Mr.Wharton at all since this happened ?" His manner was just as usual.