He began looking for it.

He thought he would send it to her, asking her opinion; then he would get an answer, and see her handwriting.

You don't know a woman until you have had a letter from her.
But no--what a fool he would look! Besides he was going to see her tonight.

It was about time to get ready....

Knowing subconsciously that he had made some slight favourable impression--at any rate that he hadn't repelled or bored her--he dressed with all the anxiety, joy and thrills of excitement of a boy of twenty; and no boy of twenty can ever feel these things as keenly or half as elaborately as a man nearly twice that age, since all the added experiences, disillusions, practice, knowledge and life of the additional years help to form a part of the same emotion, making it infinitely deeper, and all the stronger because so much more _averti_ and conscious of itself.
He seemed so nervous while dressing that Soames, the valet, to whom he was a hero, ventured respectfully to hope there was nothing wrong.
'No.