She seemed to blossom for him alone.

Every time he looked at her--a mature young woman now, and beautiful in her new dress--it hurt so much that his heart seemed almost to be bursting with the restraint he put on it.

But he had decided, and it was irrevocable.
On the hills they sat down, and he lay with his head in her lap, whilst she fingered his hair.

She knew that "he was not there," as she put it.
Often, when she had him with her, she looked for him, and could not find him.

But this afternoon she was not prepared.
It was nearly five o'clock when he told her.