For one thing, he saw himself all the time, and she did not.

She did not see him when he lay on his bed in a tense agony of desire for her.

She did not see him when life looked like a tumbled heap of ruins to him and she smiled beyond.

She all but only saw him when he was staring at the images that had been presented to him during the past months, or hearing in imagination Louise's quaintly accepted English and her quick and vivid "La pauvre petite!" For it was Louise, curiously enough, who affected him most in these days.
A friendship sprang up between them of which no one knew.

Pennell and Donovan, with whom he went everywhere, did not speak of it either to him or to one another, with that real chivalry that is in most men, but if they had they would have blundered, misunderstanding.