She looked at him, his eyes eager with sympathy, his smile tender and touched with an admiration so deep that it might be called devotion. Never before had Archey seemed so restful to her—never before with him had she felt so much at home.
"If I smile at him, he'll blush," she caught herself thinking—and experienced a rising sense of elation at the thought.
"What would you do!" she asked.
"I'd go away for a few weeks…. I believe the change would do you good."
She smiled at him and watched his responding colour with satisfaction.
"If Vera was right," she thought, "that's Chapter One the way he just spoke. Now next—he'll try to touch me."
Her eyes ever so dreamy, she reached her hand over the desk and began playing with, the blotter.
"Why, he's trembling a little," she thought. "And he's looking at it….
But, oh, isn't he shy!"
She tried to hum then and lightly beat time with her hand. "No, it isn't the only thing in life," she repeated to herself, "but—just as I said before—sooner or later—it becomes awfully important—" She caught Archey's glance and smilingly led it back to her waiting fingers.
"How dark your hand is by the side of mine," she said.