I waited for her six mortal years.

I'd have waited all my life.
But she gave in at last.

I think she realized that it was sheer waste of time to go on." "What was she waiting for ?" The question came with a certain weariness of intonation, as though the speaker were somewhat bored; but Hugh Palliser was too engrossed to notice.
He stretched his arms wide with a swift and passionate gesture.
"She was waiting for a scamp," he declared.
"It is maddening to think of--the sweetest woman on earth, Conyers, wasting her spring and her summer over a myth, an illusion.

It was an affair of fifteen years ago.

The fellow came to grief and disappointed her.