Of course no man could know Mercy without loving her.

Stephen was wretched; but no trace of it showed on the serene and smiling face with which he bade Mercy "Good-by," and ran up his office-stairs three steps at a time.
All day Mercy went about her affairs with a new sense of impulse and cheer.

It was not a conscious anticipation of the morrow: she did not say to herself "To-morrow morning I shall see him for half an hour." Love knows the secret of true joy better than that.

Love throws open wider doors,--lifts a great veil from a measureless vista: all the rest of life is transformed into one shining distance; every present moment is but a round in a ladder whose top disappears in the skies, from which angels are perpetually descending to the dreamer below.
The next morning Mercy saw Stephen leave the house even earlier than usual.

Her first thought was one of blank disappointment.