She was
as though dominated by some inner tensity, which she dared not relax
even for a moment. To Orde's questionings she replied as evasively
as she could, assuring him always that matters were going as well as
she had expected; that mother was very difficult; that Orde must
have patience, for things would surely come all right. She begged
him to remain quiescent until she gave him the word; and she
implored it so earnestly that Orde, though he chafed, was forced to
await the turn of events. Every afternoon she met him, from two to
five. The situation gave little opportunity for lovers'
demonstrations. She seemed entirely absorbed by the inner stress of
the struggle she was going through, so that hardly did she seem able
to follow coherently even plans for the future. She appeared,
however, to gain a mysterious refreshment from Orde's mere
proximity; so gradually he, with that streak of almost feminine
intuition which is the especial gift to lovers, came to the point of
sitting quite silent with her, clasping her hand out of sight of the
chance passer-by. When the time came to return, they arose and
walked back to Ninth Street, still in silence. At the door they
said good-bye. He kissed her quite soberly.
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