Alone with her memories of him, at odd moments during the day--often in
the gay clamour and crush of the social routine--or driving with Nina,
or lying, wide-eyed, on her pillow at night, she became conscious that
time, little by little, very gradually but very surely, was adding to
her regard for him frail, new, elusive elements that stole in to awake
an unquiet pulse or stir her heart into a sudden thrill, leaving it
fluttering, and a faint glow gradually spreading through her every vein.
She was beginning to love him no longer in her own sweet fashion, but in
his; and she was vaguely aware of it, yet curiously passive and content
to put no question to herself whether it was true or false. And how it
might be with him she evaded asking herself, too; only the quickening of
breath and pulse questioned the pure thoughts unvoiced; only the
increasing impatience of her suspense confirmed the answer which now,
perhaps, she might give him one day while the blessed world was young.
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