Although tempted many times to tap the invisible wire which stretched between them, and to put an end to a state of uncertainty which was indescribably irksome to her impulsive and imperative nature, she held her hand.

Pride steeled her, and vanity gave her temporary patience.

She even went so far as to think of him under another name so that no influence of hers might bring him back.
She wanted him to return naturally, on his own account, because he was unable to keep away.

She wanted him, wherever he was and whatever he was doing, to want her, not to come in cold blood from a sense of duty, in the spirit of martyrdom.

She wanted him, for her pride's sake, to be again the old eager Marty, the burning-eyed, inarticulate Marty, who had brought her to his house and laid it at her feet with all that was his.