Taking two hurried steps in the gloom of the twilight, she stopped, held at her heart, and painfully turning to him, threw her arms out, and let herself be seized and kissed.
On his asking pardon of her, which his long habit of respect forced him to do in the thick of rapture and repetitions, she said, 'You rob no one.' 'Oh,' he cried, 'there is a reward, then, for faithful love.

But am I the man I was a minute back?
I have you; I embrace you; and I doubt that I am I.Or is it Chloe's ghost ?' 'She has died and visits you.' 'And will again ?' Chloe could not speak for languor.
The intensity of the happiness she gave by resting mutely where she was, charmed her senses.

But so long had the frost been on them that their awakening to warmth was haunted by speculations on the sweet taste of this reward of faithfulness to him, and the strange taste of her own unfaithfulness to her.

And reflecting on the cold act of speculation while strong arm and glowing mouth were pressing her, she thought her senses might really be dead, and she a ghost visiting the good youth for his comfort.

So feel ghosts, she thought, and what we call happiness in love is a match between ecstasy and compliance.