You were in my mind all the time.
"And you have been acting dreadfully distant.

I had begun to believe that you didn't like me--that you wished I hadn't come----" "That would be the truth, Miss Wharton," he interrupted.

He grimly walked to the fireplace, standing with his back to it, looking at her.
He was wondering how he could tell her that she had disgraced her sex; how he could, without being brutal, tell her how he abhorred women who pursued men.
Despite the impulse of charity that moved him, he could not veil the grim disgust that had seized him.

It showed in the curve of his lips and in his eyes.
And Miss Wharton saw it.

She had been watching him narrowly when he walked away from her; she was looking at him now, in resentful inquiry, her lips tight-pressed.