But he had her hand in his, and her bosom left its warmth in his chest, making him feel whole.
One evening they were walking down by the canal, and something was troubling him.

She knew she had not got him.

All the time he whistled softly and persistently to himself.

She listened, feeling she could learn more from his whistling than from his speech.

It was a sad dissatisfied tune--a tune that made her feel he would not stay with her.
She walked on in silence.