She thought, watching him with sudden and unexpected shyness, that he seemed even more aloof, more preoccupied, more worried, more intent than before.

In this new phase the man she had known as a friend was now entirely gone, vanished! Here stood an utter stranger, very human, very determined, very deeply perplexed, very much in earnest.

Everything about this man was unknown to her.

There seemed to be nothing about him that particularly appealed to her confidence, either; yet the very uncertainty was interesting her now--intensely.
This other phase of his dual personality had been so completely a surprise that, captivated, curious, she could keep neither her gaze from him nor her thoughts.

Was it that she was going to miss in him the other charm, lose the delight in his speech, his impersonal and kindly manner, miss the comfortable security she had enjoyed with him, perhaps after some half gay, half sentimental conflict with lesser men?
What was she to expect from this brand-new incarnation of Louis Neville?
The delightful indifference, fascinating absent-mindedness and personal neglect of the other phase?
Would he be god enough to be less to her, now?
Man enough to be more than other men?
For a moment she had a little shrinking, a miniature panic lest this man turn too much like other men.