Now he could walk his room in the May dawn, and think of her, and only of her.

With all the activity of his quickened mental state, he threw himself into the future--their rides together--their meetings, few and measured till the schools were done--then!--all the hours of life, and a man's most obstinate effort, spent in the winning of her.

He knew well that she would be difficult to win.
But he meant to win her--and before others could seriously approach her.
He was already nervously jealous of Sorell--and contemptuously jealous of Radowitz.

And if they could torment him so, what would it be when Constance passed into that larger world of society to which sooner or later she was bound?
No, she was to be wooed and married now.

The Falloden custom was to marry early--and a good custom too.