Something indescribable took place every time their eyes met.

Monty had often wondered just what that something meant, but he had always realized that it had in it nothing of platonic affection.
"If I didn't have to meet her eyes," he had said to himself, "I could go on discussing even politics with her, but the moment she looks at me I know she can see what I'm thinking about." From the first they considered themselves very good friends, and after their third meeting it seemed perfectly natural that they should call one another by their first names.

Monty knew he was treading on dangerous ground.

It never occurred to him to wonder what Barbara might think of him.

He took it as a matter of course that she must feel more than friendly toward him.
As they rode through the maze of carriages, they bowed frequently to friends as they passed.