With Lewis she was undeniably cross, but of Mr.Stocks she was radically intolerant.
A moment of pique might send her to his side, but the position was unnatural and could not be maintained.

Even now Lewis was in her thoughts.

Fragments of his odd romantic speech clove to her memory.
His figure--for he showed to perfection in his own surroundings--was so comely and gallant, so bright with the glamour of adventurous youth, that for a moment this prosaic young woman was a convert to the coloured side of life and had forgotten her austere creed.
Mr.Stocks went about his duty with praise-worthy thoroughness.

For the fiftieth time in a week he detailed to her his prospects.

When he had raised a cloud-built castle of fine hopes, when he had with manly simplicity repeated his confession of faith, he felt that the crucial moment had arrived.