“Like me!” he exclaimed, seating himself on the bench. Apparently their intercourse, so long as it should continue, was destined to be on the basis of intimacy in which it had begun. It was possible at once to be aware of her disturbing presence, and yet to feel at home in it.
“Like you, yes,” she said, continuing to examine him. “You've changed remarkably.”
In his agitation, at this discovery of hers he again repeated her words.
“Why, you seem happier, you look happier. It isn't only that, I can't explain how you impress me. It struck me when you were talking to Mr. Bentley the other day. You seem to see something you didn't see when I first met you, that you didn't see the first time we were at Mr. Bentley's together. Your attitude is fixed—directed. You have made a decision of some sort—a momentous one, I rather think.”
“Yes,” he replied, “you are right. It's more than remarkable that you should have guessed it.”
She remained silent
“I have decided,” he found himself saying abruptly, “to continue in the Church.”
Still she was silent, until he wondered whether she would answer him. He had often speculated to himself how she would take this decision, but he could make no surmise from her expression as she stared off into the wood. Presently she turned her head, slowly, and looked into his face. Still she did not speak.
“You are wondering how I can do it,” he said.
“Yes,” she acknowledged, in a low voice.