Her eyes said so openly they were his, and her mouth said it was his, her whole being went out to him; in the radiance of her face could be read immortal designs: the maid kissing her farewell to innocence was there, and the reason why it must be, and the fate of the unborn; it was the first stirring for weal or woe of a movement that has no end on earth, but must roll on, growing lusty on beauty or dishonour till the crack of time.

This birth which comes to every woman at that hour is God's gift to her in exchange for what He has taken away, and when He has given it He stands back and watches the man.
To this man she was a woman transformed.

The new bloom upon her face entranced him.

He knew what it meant.

He was looking on the face of love at last, and it was love coming out smiling from its hiding-place because it thought it had heard him call.