There were ways, she fully recognised, in which he spared her, and other particular ways as to which she meant that her silence should be full to him of exquisite pleading.

The most particular of all was his not being outside, at the corner, when she quitted the place for the night.

This he might so easily have been--so easily if he hadn't been so nice.

She continued to recognise in his forbearance the fruit of her dumb supplication, and the only compensation he found for it was the harmless freedom of being able to appear to say: "Yes, I'm in town only for three or four days, but, you know, I _would_ stay on." He struck her as calling attention each day, each hour, to the rapid ebb of time; he exaggerated to the point of putting it that there were only two days more, that there was at last, dreadfully, only one.
There were other things still that he struck her as doing with a special intention; as to the most marked of which--unless indeed it were the most obscure--she might well have marvelled that it didn't seem to her more horrid.

It was either the frenzy of her imagination or the disorder of his baffled passion that gave her once or twice the vision of his putting down redundant money--sovereigns not concerned with the little payments he was perpetually making--so that she might give him some sign of helping him to slip them over to her.