Angela Vivian, on her side, was not strikingly responsive.

There was nothing in her deportment to indicate that she was in love with her systematic suitor.

She was perfectly gracious and civil.

She smiled in his face when he shook hands with her; she looked at him and listened when he talked; she let him stroll beside her in the Lichtenthal Alley; she read, or appeared to read, the books he lent her, and she decorated herself with the flowers he offered.

She seemed neither bored nor embarrassed, neither irritated nor oppressed.