Something--a mere glancing streak of the great shaft of ecstasy which enveloped Jack Tosswill's whole being had touched her senses into what had seemed to him marvellous response.
When at last he had released her, and in words of at once triumphant and humble adoration, had made her an offer of marriage, she had felt it an absurd anti-climax to a very delicious and, even in her well-stored memory, a unique experience.
And now she remembered the last time a man had kissed her.

It was quite a little while ago, on the day she had taken possession of The Trellis House.

Of course Captain Tremaine had tipped the guard so that they should have a carriage to themselves.

But she had been uncomfortably aware that he was half-ashamed of himself--that he remembered, all the time, that she was a newly-made widow.
Somehow Jack Tosswill hadn't remembered that.

Jack hadn't thought of it.
But oh! how absurd he had been when his first rapture was over.