It was absurd to weave a tangle about a matter so simple as a custom of devotion that might with ease have been daily or hourly; yet the tangle got itself woven.

He was sorry, he was disappointed: it was as if a long happy spell had been broken and he had lost a familiar security.

At the last, however, he asked himself if he was to stay away for ever from the fear of this muddle about motives.

After an interval neither longer nor shorter than usual he re-entered the church with a clear conviction that he should scarcely heed the presence or the absence of the lady of the concert.

This indifference didn't prevent his at once noting that for the only time since he had first seen her she wasn't on the spot.