She said not a word, but her mind travelled its circle again.
"It is so," said Eugene; "I know it." Still Dorothy looked at him.
"All my heart is yours," Eugene went on, "but I would rather it broke, and yours too, before I counselled you to be false to a man for a reason like that." A flush came over Dorothy's face.

She pulled her straw hat from her shoulders to her head, and tied the blue strings under her chin.

She gathered up daintily a fold of her blue mottled skirt on either side.
"Then I will marry Burr this day week," she said.

"I will endeavor to be a good and true wife to him, and I pray you to forget if you can what has passed between us to-day." She said this as calmly and authoritatively as her father could have said it in the pulpit, and courtesied slightly, then went on down the lane and out into the open beyond, with a soft tilt of her blue skirts and as gently proud a carriage as when she walked into the meeting-house of a Sabbath.
Eugene said not a word to stop her, but stood staring after her.

All his study of his Shakespeare helped him not to an understanding of this one girl, whom he saw with love-dimmed eyes.