But like a bug-a-boo it had gone.

And this good, safe man had become transformed in this amazing intimacy and had become a wild delight: a man to laugh at, tease, provoke, and cling to, silent, in a flame; a man to mother, study out, probe into deep with questions; a man to plan and plan with.
"This love is to be the love of his life! It's to make us work and grow, make us fine and awake and alive to everything worth living for! No laziness for you, my dear, no soft, cosy kitten life! You're to be a woman, a real one! Don't let there be any mistake about that!" In the other room Joe was at his piano, and the music he was playing had nothing to do with--any one else.

She did not say, "with Amy." She frowned a little and cut herself short, as she so often did in her thinking, these days, when it touched upon her sister.

She could feel Amy here at so many points, and she did not want to be jealous.
"I wonder where we're going tonight." What was it Joe was playing?
Music she had heard before.

She did not like to ask him and so betray her ignorance.