For the last two months Modeste has taken as much care of her personal appearance as if she expected to meet a lover.
She has grown extremely fastidious about her shoes; she wants to set off her pretty feet; she scolds Madame Gobet, the shoemaker.

It is the same thing with her milliner.

Some days my poor darling is absorbed in thought, evidently expectant, as if waiting for some one.

Her voice has curt tones when she answers a question, as though she were interrupted in the current of her thoughts and secret expectations.

Then, if this awaited lover has come--" "Good heavens!" "Sit down, Dumay," said the blind woman.