She desired it to turn full upon her, to look straight into hers with its clear, gentle eyes, which seemed to be so full of wonderful knowledge.

Once or twice, yes, in truth, once or twice it had done so, but never for long enough.

It would do so yet again.

Oh but not for long enough! A look not of instants, but of minutes, of full minutes ticked to their last second; what would she give for that! One such gaze and she would be satisfied.

It was not to ask much, surely not much.
But she was going to live there, behind the library, and he would come often, very often.