He soothed himself by poking the fire.

His mind was still full of her, but plethoric, content.

When his thoughts stirred at all it was, at the very most, to revolve the question, "How shall I go about it, when the time comes, so as not to be ridiculous ?" This question, which had so harassed him the other night, left him troubled but inert.

He did not try to solve it, but decided to leave everything to chance, since the best planned strategy was almost always abortive.
Then he revolted against himself, accused himself of stagnation, and walked up and down to shake himself out of a torpor which might have been attributed to the hot fire.

Well, well, was it because he had had to wait so long that his desires had left him, or at least quit bothering him--no, they had not, why, he was yearning now for the moment when he might crush that woman! He thought he had the explanation of his lack of enthusiasm in the stage fright inseparable from any beginning.
"It will not be really exquisite tonight until after the newness wears off and the grotesque with it.