The presence of the girl there on the pavement before me proved this up to the hilt--and, well, yes, touchingly enough.
It so happened that in their wanderings to and fro our glances met.

They met and remained in contact more familiar than a hand-clasp, more communicative, more expressive.

There was something comic too in the whole situation, in the poor girl and myself waiting together on the broad pavement at a corner public-house for the issue of Fyne's ridiculous mission.

But the comic when it is human becomes quickly painful.

Yes, she was infinitely anxious.