The Hand but Not the Heart; Or, The Life-Trials of Jessie Loring

PAUL! The young man started, and a delicate flush mantled his handsome face, as he turned to the lady who had pronounced his name in a tone slightly indicative of surprise.
Ah! Mrs. Denison, was his simple response.
You seem unusually absent-minded this evening, remarked the lady.
Do I?
Yes.
You have been observing me?
I could not help it; for every time my eyes have wandered in this direction, they encountered you, standing in the same position, and looking quite as much like a statue as a living man.
How long is it since I first attracted your attention? inquired the person thus addressed, assuming an indifference of manner which it was plain he did not feel.
If I were to say half an hour, it would not be far wide of the truth.
Oh, no! It can't be five minutes since I came to this part of the room, said the young man, whose name was Paul Hendrickson. He seemed a little annoyed.
Not a second less than twenty minutes, replied the lady. Your thoughts must have been very busy thus to have removed nearly all ideas of time.
They were busy, was the simple reply. But the low tones were full of meaning.