She was at the point when his coming made a difference that she could feel; when she heard his step her blood beat faster, and she could feel herself turning a shade paler.

Then the heavy lids would droop a little to hide what was in her dark eyes, and there were many voices in her ear, as though the very air cried _gloria_, while her heart answered _in excelsis_.

But when he was come the gentle tale seemed carried on, as from the hour of his last going; and while he stayed life seemed one long day.
She had struggled hard, but in her deepest thoughts she had foreseen the termination.

It is the instinct of good women to fight against love--he comes in such a questionable shape.

A good woman sees a difference between being in love and loving--well knowing that there is passion without love, but no love without passion.