She had indeed come up to the scratch.

He had not believed it possible that she could have been so gracious, and he had not even guessed that she would condescend to speak so much.

And all his old friends had been so awfully nice about her and honestly admiring; except Arthur Elterton--_he_ had admired rather too much! And then this exaltation somewhat died down.

It was after all but a very poor, outside show, when, in reality, he could not even knock at her door! He wished now he had never let his pride hurl forth that ultimatum on the wedding night, because he would have to stick to it! He could not make the slightest advance, and it did not look as if she meant to do so.

Tristram in an ordinary case when his deep feelings were not concerned would have known how to display a thousand little tricks for the allurement of a woman, would have known exactly how to cajole her, to give her a flower, and hesitate when he spoke her name--and a number of useful things--but he was too terribly in earnest to be anything but a real, natural man; that is, hurt from her coldness and diffident of himself, and iron-bound with pride.
And Zara at the other side of the door felt almost happy.