She even went farther, in a timid way inciting him, but doing it so delicately that he never suspected, and doing it half- consciously, so that she scarcely suspected herself.

She thrilled with these proofs of her power that proclaimed her a woman, and she took an Eve-like delight in tormenting him and playing upon him.
Tongue-tied by inexperience and by excess of ardor, wooing unwittingly and awkwardly, Martin continued his approach by contact.

The touch of his hand was pleasant to her, and something deliciously more than pleasant.

Martin did not know it, but he did know that it was not distasteful to her.

Not that they touched hands often, save at meeting and parting; but that in handling the bicycles, in strapping on the books of verse they carried into the hills, and in conning the pages of books side by side, there were opportunities for hand to stray against hand.
And there were opportunities, too, for her hair to brush his cheek, and for shoulder to touch shoulder, as they leaned together over the beauty of the books.