Their eyes never met in a steady gaze.
Waymark often asked himself whether Maud's was a passionless nature, or whether it was possible that her reserve had the same origin as his own.

The latter he felt to be unlikely; sometimes there was a pressure of her hands as their lips just touched, the indication, he believed, of feeling held in restraint for uncertain reasons.

She welcomed him, too, with a look which he in vain endeavoured to respond to--a look of sudden relief from weariness, of gentle illumination; it smote him like a reproach.

When the summer had set in, he was glad to change the still room for the open air; they walked frequently about Regent's Park, and lingered till after sunset.
One evening, when it was dull and threatened rain, they returned to the house sooner than usual.

Waymark would have taken his leave at the door, as he ordinarily did, but Maud begged him to enter, if only for a few minutes.