She had always been conscious of the element of friction in their intercourse.

This evening it had suddenly crystallised into a definite realisation that although this man desired to be her friend--Truth, at the bottom of her mental well, whispered perhaps even something more--he was caught back, restrained by the knowledge of some obstacle, some hindrance to their friendship of which she was entirely ignorant.
She waited in silence.
Presently he turned back to her, and she gathered from his expression that he had come to a decision.

In the moment that elapsed before he spoke she had time to be aware of a sudden, almost breathless anxiety, and instinctively she let her lids fall over her eyes lest he should read and understand the apprehension in them.
"Diana." His voice came gently and gravely to her ears.

With an effort she looked up and found him regarding her with eyes from which all the old ironical mockery had fled.

They were very steady and kind--kinder than she had ever believed it possible for them to be.